Tunnel opening, Ireland 2010

Black Dragon

There’s a black dragon
Under my feet
It’s smoke framed face
Fills my sleep
There’s a black dragon
Circling my home
There’s a black dragon
Won’t leave me alone

Walking down the ragged track
Feeling kind of dreamy
Are those eyes upon my back
I hope that they don’t see me
I drop me down into the ground
To see what I could see there
Shadowed figure large and round
I think I should not be here

There’s a black dragon
Under my feet
It’s smoke framed face
Fills my sleep
There’s a black dragon
Screaming in pain
There’s a black dragon
And he’s calling my name

Calling my name
Calling my
Name

Listen to the song

(C) AM (Xander) Hunter September 2020

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Stoneacorn (Xander)

These songs, poems, and reflections offer an insight to who I am and are my autobiography. I am a poet, a song writer, a witch. I dance my Wyrd in my practice; in how I choose to live; in who I share my moments with. My heart is black, white, grey and purple like the stone beneath my feet, the bones of Grandfather Green. My eyes contain her Stars and her deep dark well as I straddle the hedge and listen to the winds. My form is the tree that connects all realms, clothed in holly and oak. I am Stoneacorn

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