..::Conor Newman, an archaeology lecturer at the National University of Ireland at Galway announced that he had located a massive subterranean temple at Tara.
What they uncovered eventually at the crown of the hill was a huge, oval-shaped monument measuring about 170 meters at its widest point. Around it are 300 postholes measuring two meters wide. Evidence indicates this ‘Crown’ (tiara) jewel of Irish archaeology was constructed through an enormous effort.
300 towering oak posts once surrounded the hill. Newman thinks it probably dates from 2500 to 2300 BC and still had a big physical presence even after the posts were taken out or rotted. While the site is home to many known archaeological treasures, this latest discovery reveals that the real treasure exists underneath the sacred hill and may soon be revived.
Tara is the prehistoric home of the magical Tuatha Dé Danann, who are considered to be direct descendants or reincarnations of the biblical Shining Ones (Elohim), the creator gods.
W.Y.Evans-Wentz notes that they are described as a race of majestic appearance and marvelous beauty, in form human, yet in nature divine.
The Irish called them the ‘Lords of Light’ or Illi, and they brought with them four treasures or power tools:
• the Stone of Destiny
• the Sword of Destiny
• the Cup of Destiny
• the Staff or Spear of Destiny
These treasures were housed in the so-called Cave of Treasures, inside the Mountain of God, where burns a perpetual flame.
Tara was considered the Mountain of God, as well as the Illi’s Gateway to the etheric Otherworld::.
* * * *
As she read...each word, sentence, paragraph,
stirred her blood and awakened forgotten memories, like the scent of something on the wind, reminiscent of a recollection...perhaps of some place she hadn't been, and yet she knew it, deeply within. Running like a river, a current, a connection. A talisman.
The book, of course was, the Lord of the Rings, part one. She only took short breaks from it to dip into Tennyson, as well as de Vere. Those two were like oil upon her fire...
Although HRH disturbed her somewhat...she shook her head; however she did agree with many of his assessments, and applauded his embrace of courtly love, some of his ideas she found not so much off the mark as skirting the real issues...
Tolkien was the real mage and magic here.
"I summon up remembrance of things past..." Ah, Shakespeare, thought Em...as she closed Tolkien and leaned her head against her mahogany headboard, listening to the wind whip up the night. Another storm brewing...
She went to her window and pulled back the curtain, just in time for a flash of lightning, followed by rolling thunder. She shivered involuntarily; although she wasn't the storm-maiden that Athena was, she could still appreciate a fine wild wind. She had to admit, however, she had witnessed more storms just occasionally visiting the east coast, than she'd experienced in her many years living in California...
Em nearly closed the curtain when she believed she heard a knock at the door. Tonight? Surely not Athena out storm-walking again...? She leaned sideways to see if she could view the door.
Sure enough, she noted a figure step back from the porch and glance up at the windows, barely visible in the growing twilight...then approach once more. Rapping again. Definite this time.
Emlyn flew down the stairs, hoping she hadn't been so engrossed in her reading that she'd kept whoever it was, out in the storm for long...
Stepping into the foyer, she peered through the brass peephole, then opened the door.
'Aleister! Do come inside!' Em ushered a wind-tossed Aleister within, 'This is a happy surprise!'
Al removed his cap and attempted to smooth his wild locks, 'Ah, Em, if only it were! Afraid I'm here on a bit of urgent business...is Jack about?'
Em hadn't seen him since the morning. 'I believe he said he was in the lab...is anything wrong, Aleister?' She walked with Al down the hallway to the basement door.
'Oh, probably nothing, but I thought Jack should know that, dash it--it seems Trotsky got out somehow and is missing...blasted equine! Or I certainly wouldn't be here in this blow!' Al tugged his cap back onto his head, and began punching in the code to open the door to the lab below.
'Oh no! I'm sorry, Al. How long has he been gone?' Em followed Aleister down the stairs.
'Ah, just since last night I believe. But no one has seen him anywhere, and...oh, Jack! I have some news...' Jack raised his dark, unkempt head. 'You may wish to return with me. Trotsky has gone missing!'
Al wiped his ruddy face with a hanky, as Jack got up from his keyboards; Daryl followed, after removing a set of earphones.
When Al finished explaining the situation, Jack decided to return to Crowley Place with him. 'Trots is a good friend, not just a horse, you know.' Jack shut off his equipment, 'I can't bear to think someone might have absconded with him!' He looked at Em, his features tight, 'He's a fine bit of horseflesh, to some! To me, though...'
Jack fairly flew up the stairs, Aleister following.
'We'll be back and let you know as soon as we have news!' Aleister called as they made their
hasty exit.
'Well!' Daryl powered down his amplifier as well,
'I guess it's just us, then.'
'Hmm...yes,' Em was staring up the stairway after their visitors.
'Come on, then,' Daryl took her arm and steered her to the stairs in turn, 'let's get some dinner started, shall we...?'
. . . .
'It always seems to be storming when I'm here! I feel my presence has angered Thor somehow...' Emlyn mused as they locked up the lab.
Daryl half-smiled. 'It is the start of hurricane season here.'
'Only the start?!' Em hoped she'd not be staying here all that long. 'I've never been in a hurricane.'
'Never fear, cariad,' Daryl put a comforting arm about her slim shoulders, '"It was for storms like this, that this house was built", to quote Barnabas Collins, when speaking of Collinwood...'
'Yes?'
'A 20th century, ah, play...set in Maine, actually, but the scene of much stormy intrigue, mystery and Gothic romance!--Even time travel.'
Em was suitably intrigued, 'Indeed? I would love to see this play...'
Daryl and Em rounded the corner into the lofty kitchen just as thunder rumbled in the distance.
'Ah! The gods are gathering!' Em laughed, but storms, although thrilling to her, made her a trifle uneasy all the same...
That Jack! He'd certainly made an expedient escape, back to California summer. She hoped he'd find Trotsky; his horse was part of the family, after all... At least no one would be tempted to steal her good, albeit homely Pancho, who was safely boarding at Mrs. Murphy's. Em raised her eyes to the darkening sky, wishing she was there with him now...
Daryl hummed and whistled about the kitchen, suffering from no such qualms, having grown up on or near the east coast. He relished storms; he and Athena sometimes sat one out in the gazebo, wrapped up together in sleeping bags and comforters, a thermos of cocoa with brandy handy, railing at Thor's Hammer with gay abandon...
It might liven things up a bit, he mused, if he were to invite Athena over; bring with her some Dark Shadows or, better, the original Dracula with Lugosi. Em might prefer the handsome, charismatic but cruel, Christopher Lee of Hammer films, but Daryl bethought Hammer rather a bit much for Em's delicate sensibilities. Later, perhaps.
'It isn't about to break for a while yet.' Daryl decided, 'I may jog over and see if Athena wishes to join us for dinner.' Daryl strode into the hallway, opened the closet door and shrugged into his raincoat, Em following.
'Let's see then...would you chop some garlic whilst I'm out, a lot of it...onion as well...'
'What are we cooking, then?' Em handed Daryl his hat.
'Hm. Don't know as yet.' He smiled, tightening his belt, 'but it's sure to need a lot of both...'
Pulling down his cap, he squeezed Em's arm and then exited into the gathering gloom. 'Back soon.
Make up the fire in parlor, too, would you?' And off into the gloom Daryl dared...
'Gracias, Josephina!' He called as he waved farewell, the Generalissimo having issued his orders.
'Si, si, mi capitan!' Em, as Josephina, saluted his back.
. . . .
'"Blow til thou burst thy wind, if room enough!"'
Daryl eyed the clouds massing his way, and pulled his collar up about his neck, '"but I would fain die a dry death!"'
A crack of lightning interrupted his impromptu 'Tempest' recitation, reminding him of his need for haste...
Athena's gatehouse stood at the border to the property, as it's namesake betold; not a far walk but a 'good stretch o'the legs', nonetheless.
Daryl welcomed it...he'd been indoors much too much of late, sent within by inclement weather and business of research. He put a hand to his head and rubbed hard, as if to wipe from his mind all he'd recently worked so hard to stuff within.
'Mad as the Mist and Snow, indeed,' he growled to himself, plunging on through the battering wind.
He had to admit that, the more he learned, the more he discovered, that, really, the less he knew.
However, Daryl was a lucky man, being one of the very few who recognized that intellect is not intelligence, as Krisnamurti had realized before him.
Indeed, all men would be but Machiavellian wolves; insular and greedy, nothing but self-serving misanthropes, or savages, (not that most weren't, in his time), if not for the intelligence of some.
Intelligence lies in a certain awareness, and knowing oneself. What one feels inwardly, and knows to be true. And, if something seems confused and chaotic, then it probably was. Catalog it thus, and let it be...
The minds of men were fine thinking machines; compartmentalization and objective analysis came naturally to them. But, within these winding labyrinths, they easily became lost. Hence, intelligence was needed; intuition, instinct, a sixth sense. A Knowing.
Or one might wind up making doomsday machines before realizing, Oops! I just destroyed the planet!
Then, there's no going back to the drawing board.
Such were Daryl's musings as he trudged through the hedges and down the well-worn pathway to the woods leading to Athena's gatehouse.
He needed to center more and quiet his raging monkey-mind...more meditation, and O, gods grant:
more sleep...
Perhaps he simply needed to catch up on some long-lost sleep. He felt he had hardly slept since retrieving Jack.
And yet...lately he had found himself doubting everything he thought he'd known. He'd all these
certainties about how things were; tied up in neat little boxes and stored away, which he would open and trot out when required, but...
No longer. What was real and what was not, was beginning to become a real mind-worm gnawing at his pithy positivity, ex cathedra.
Not only that, but, he had caught himself thinking, 'If only Yeats were here!', time and again. But no; Yeats was off--after dissolving the Order, on a crystal starship with a Fey woman of the Tuatha De Danann! Or was he? Did he even know, himself, Yeats? Did he even care?
Perhaps not. Perhaps...(and this was a frightening conjecture), Yeats had also come to this juncture. Perhaps it was near-madness that drove him to leap headfirst into the unknown, to
go tripping merrily into...what? Exactly?
Perhaps it was all a hologram...a projection from the Archons? Daryl was leaning more toward this line of thought of late, since his experience with the Cup.
Indeed, Daryl was certainly no stranger to the oddities and so-called 'impossibilities' he'd experienced in life. Multi-dimensions, a certainty. Starships, beings from parallel worlds, or what we perceived as such: a question....round and round he went with that. One's mind could contain an entire universe...
...as with the Zen master who woke dreaming of a butterfly, and wondered if he were actually a butterfly dreaming it were a man?
Daryl stopped and sighed as he emerged from the wood, the trees singing in the wild wind. He gazed up at the dark clouds above, seeking answers, seeking peace.
He wasn't even sure of Anara any longer...she had been absent from him, from his dreams for so long.
Who, or what was she, really? He rubbed his eyes, as if to give himself clearer vision.
'"I have forgot much, Cynara, gone with the wind..."' He put his hands in his pockets and continued on, seeing the familiar stones of the gatehouse at last.
'Mad as the Mist and Snow, so we are...'
. . . .
No answer. Daryl rapped again, his hand upon the large ring which hung from a lion's mouth that served as Athena's door knocker. He put an ear to the door, hearing nothing; but hardly expected to--even when she was there, the large oaken door, with oval frame surrounded by stone, was not only secure but fairly soundproof.
Out storm-walking? Maybe...
T'was then Daryl heard a rumble and turning about, found an entirely darkened horizon behind him. Well. Best head back then, before Thor caught up to him seeking satisfaction.
. . . .
Daryl gained his door just as the scattered raindrops organized into a deluge. Removing his drenched mackintosh, he shut the door, hoping indeed that Athena hadn't been caught in this downpour. It was incredibly dark now, too dark to be out walking in the wood.
Running his hands through his hair, shaking out raindrops, he headed for the kitchen, 'Em?' he called, but rounding the corner, saw no one there.
Dinner appeared to have been prepared, however, a
pasta marinara. Daryl removed the lid to the sauce and tasted...he shut his eyes: heaven!
Then, opening his eyes, he observed his good tawny port had obviously been used in the cooking, and divined the secret of it's success...
But where were the perpetrators of this gastronomical paradise?
He checked the parlor, to no avail. 'Em...? Ah--!' Daryl stopped to remove his soaking boots and set them near the fire, before moving down the hallway toward the library... Except for the fire in the parlor, outside of the kitchen, the house was dark. Night, already?
As he approached the library's double doors, he could discern many voices, and music from within.
He frowned, it couldn't be Athena, with a film here, already? Noo...he'd only just left there...
He entered, shutting the doors behind him, to find Emlyn and Athena seated upon the leather sofa, wineglasses in hand, watching a movie on the 'little big screen' as Daryl dubbed his in-home theatre hidden behind a library wall.
'Where were you?' Athena matched Daryl with the same inquiry, as she leaned forward and shut off the film, while Emlyn lighted candles.
'I?' Daryl raked a hand though his hair. 'I was out in the storm searching for you! I only just returned from the gatehouse!' He looked at the screen. 'What were you watching?'
'"Prince Caspian"!' Emlyn gaily informed him as she approached with a glass of red for Daryl.
'It only just ended.'
'You must be joking...' Daryl was grateful for the wine.
'I liked it! Very much!' Em turned her nose up toward Daryl and turned on her heel, pouring more wine for herself. 'And that's where you were for nearly two hours? I went ahead with dinner...' she gestured toward the kitchen.
'Yes, I noticed the missing port...' Daryl smiled his half-smile, 'Tis alright! It is, in fact, quite delicious! And I'm starving!'
'Just have a seat then, lad...there we go!' Athena sat Daryl upon the couch. 'I'll fetch a plate for us, as you've been so busy searching for me! I wonder...' She leaned back, regarding him. 'Well, we can catch up anon; first the staff of life, si?'
'Indeed...' Daryl sat back, arms about the sofa, '"One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well..."' He looked toward the windows then, noting that the sky was dark as...well, as night. 'Virginia Wolfe!', he called, and frowned then, looking over his shoulder at the clock on the mantle. He couldn't believe his eyes:
nine o'clock! But, he'd left...only just before seven... A trip to the gatehouse and back was only fifteen minutes, maximum.
Curious, that.
. . . .
'We've decided, well, proposed, rather, that we watch 'The Hobbit' tonight,' Athena brought a tray with their dinners into the library-cum-theatre, 'if, of course, that suits you?' She stood, surveying Daryl from her lofty height. 'Caspian was a time-filler, until you got here.'
'Oh!' Em had tucked into her spaghetti already, 'The Prince was surely more than that!'
Daryl gave in to an eye-roll. 'I'm sure he is, for some.' Attacking his salad he assured them, 'Yes, that would be an excellent choice, the Hobbit...'
Although going along with the ladies' nonchalance regarding his lateness, Daryl was most exceedingly alarmed: where had the past two hours gone? The Massachusetts property was inviolable; or supposed to be. Had he somehow managed to get himself abducted again? And by whom? Or was it just a glitch in the Matrix? Or his mind...
Em snuffed out her candles as Athena rolled the film, and all commenced the time-honored 20th-century-and-beyond pastime known as 'dinner-and-a-movie'.
. . . .
'It's really whipping up the coast tonight!' Athena commented, as she shut off the film. Now that the sound was off, they noticed the storm without; beating the trees about them with unleashed fury.
'"The wind of change is blowing through..."' added Daryl.
'That was wonderful!' Emlyn sat, as though stunned, staring blankly at the quiet screen. 'Although much different from the pictures I had imagined in my mind...'
'And so, do all 21st century folk attend to this custom of dinner with a movie?' Em enquired, stretching as she stood.
'Um, most do, or did, once,' Athena rubbed her neck, 'although the term usually denotes a foray out for dinner and the theatre.'
'Oh, good,' Em strolled over to the window, pulling back the heavy curtain, 'I'm glad folk still enjoy actual live plays. And, they also continue acting in plays, as well as parlor games, after dinner?'
'That, not so much...alas,' Daryl chimed in as he returned bearing another bottle of port, cheeses and fruit. 'As wonderful as some films are, I often think that the advent of movies, either in theatres or at home, was the death of family ties, as well as the nemesis of friendship and other relationships.'
Daryl struggled with opening the wine a moment, then, pop! 'People became ever more passive, allowing others to entertain them. Once the film was over, they merely sat dumbfounded like stunned oxen, awaiting more passive entertainment...'
'Oh dear,' Emlyn took a bit of the pepper Jack. 'One of my favorite social pastimes was to act in impromptu plays! Or charades...I can't imagine a world without!' She sipped some port in fortification, 'And you said no one touches when they dance, either...' she shook her head. 'Reincarnation now looms as something rather worse than oblivion!' she concluded.
Daryl and Athena were both silent, not wishing to add fat to that particular fire. The clock then struck half-past the hour of eleven.
'Well, then!' Daryl slapped his knees as he stood once more, 'We must resurrect such a custom!
We shall write, produce, direct and act a new play!'
'Dios mio, Diego!' Athena stood yawning and stretched her long, sinuous self. 'Not tonight! Not I...' She began packing up her movies.
Daryl stared after her, smiling. 'As you wish. You may wait until morning. But you WILL stay overnight here! I will insist.'
'Oh, and will ye, now?'
'Yes, I will.' Daryl stood and caught Athena by the waist, and began a slow waltz with her around the low table.
'I am asleep where I sit, unless I head upstairs now!' Emlyn blamed it on their early start sans Daryl, and a heavy meal of 'macaroni and gravy' as her Italiano friends back in San Francisco referred to pasta marinara.
Where could Daryl have been all that time? Wandering about the wood? He knew this area better than anyone else, so that didn't seem likely...
'Tomorrow, don't forget: the play's the thing!'
Daryl called after Em as she exited...she turned
about and saw the two of them waltzing as Daryl hummed what Emlyn now recognized as 'Fly Me To the Moon'. She smiled and shut the doors to the study behind her...
. . . .
Emlyn slept fitfully, as the storm howled about the house. At last she gave up and decided to begin her day, although it seemed rather early still...
Pulling back her curtains, she saw that it was not pre-dawn, but that dark clouds had covered the skies, giving lie to sunrise.
As she headed downstairs, she detected the familiar scent of cornbread baking. Daryl had beat
her to the kitchen, it seemed.
'Smells divine!'
Daryl sat at table, his feet up on a handy chair, drinking tea and perusing a thick volume before him. 'Rosemary, and onion...' he answered, by way of greeting.
As Em took her tea and cut a slice of the aromatic loaf, she gazed outside at the wind whipping the treetops, and frowned as she joined Daryl at the big oaken table.
'Athena has left already?'
Daryl marked and closed his book. 'She has.' He stretched his arms behind him, 'There was a lull in the storm earlier.'
Em was still regarding the tempest without.
'I was awake much of the night. Is it always storming here?' She crunched into her bread. Delicious.
'"There is no wind that always blows a storm",' Daryl smiled with half his face. 'Euripides. If you can believe him...but, no, I don't suppose it is always storming. But, it is, in part, how the whole enclosure which I hold in demesne is kept safeguarded and separate from space/time without.
If one studies tornadoes, for instance, certain anomalous findings fly in the face of physics.'
Emlyn was indeed, most curious about that fact. And many others regarding the enigmatic Daryl. He was rather dodgy about the more pertinent information that Em coveted. The more casual and disinterested she seemed, the more forthcoming he would be. Usually.
'I seee...' she said, then sighed. 'I do hope Jack finds Trotsky, and no harm has come to him.'
Daryl was poring over his book again, 'Hmm?' He looked up, 'Ah. Yes. I'm sure he will. Who knows when, however...' He shut the book. 'Time, again.'
Daryl clasped his hands before him, elbows on table, and leaned his chin on hands.
'Two hours, yesterday...gone missing.'
Em looked at him askance. 'You mean...you just went to Athena's and back, directly, then?'
'Yes, Em; that is exactly what I mean.' He frowned.
'But, that takes a fraction of the time you were gone! What does this mean, Daryl?' Em wondered if another time-slip was imminent.
Daryl stood, raking both hands through his hair.
'I don't...know. It should not be happening here!'
He leaned both hands on the counter and stared out the window. 'It's never happened here before.'
He turned around, leaning on the countertop, and rubbed his forehead, 'It's supposed to be inviolable. It was...' He stared before him at nothing, 'I wonder...'
'Yes?' Em poured more tea for them both, and Daryl stared at it a while, then sat.
'Hmm...' he dripped honey into his cup, and sighed. 'Well, it's just that...partially, this safety zone is fortified by, ah, a sort of mental
force, of my own.'
'Indeed?' Em wondered how he could possibly assume it to be invulnerable then. She carefully hid this assessment from Daryl, however.
He stared at the thin stream of amber honey as if mesmerized. 'Yess...' Licking his spoon then, he stirred and confessed, '...and, I must admit, that lately, I have begun to have certain doubts.'
'Doubts about what?' Em wasn't sure she liked where this was going.
'Everything!' Hand to forehead once more, Daryl massaged his third eye, 'Ah, Em...I am not the Mr. Know-It-All that I try to appear to be. I do know that! Despite what others perceive to be hubris, I detest running the show!'
Em merely watched him, knowing that he was winding himself up for a total confession soon. She didn't wish to move or speak for fear of silencing his unexpected torrent. He was up on his feet again, pacing now.
'Ever since I began writing plays...I couldn't bear for my creations to be misconstrued, you see.
And so, I did it all: the writing, editing, directing, the scenery, the costumes, the actors, securing the venue...' A hand raked through his hair once more, giving him a more disheveled air.
'...But, it drove me mad, really. Everyone running to one with their problems, and expecting a quick fix!' He shook his head, and stopped, turning to her, 'And so, I quit. I was at the top of my game, and I walked away from it; this place, the fame and glory...' he waved a dismissive hand,
'Everything.'
He resumed his seat next to Em once more. 'Little did I know then, that once I gave up the world I knew, that the real challenge would begin.' He drank half his tea, 'Then, I was forced to realize just how small and insignificant my little kingdom was. How small I was, as well.'
Em helped herself to more cornbread. She wasn't going anywhere for a while...
'I...I have been wondering, of late, if I'm not just following Jack down the rabbit-hole...' Daryl looked genuinely pained.
Daryl patted her hand, 'Perhaps. But, Emlyn, know that I am not the tower of confidence I may sometimes appear.' He stared into his tea cup. 'I may not even know...about Anara, anymore.'
'What do you mean?' This sounded serious.
'I mean, I don't know!' Daryl looked lost, his eyes pleading with her, 'Who or what she is! If she is 'real', and in what reality? Is it all only in my mind?' His head fell on one hand, his eyes closed. '...Or is it just a phantom projection of the Archons?' Daryl sighed once more, 'You see Em, I was thinking just such thoughts, when I was...lost in time yesterday, en route to Athena's.'
This was serious. If Daryl didn't know...then, who did? 'But, it is real, Daryl! I know Anara, and Thelene, and Axelis...as do you, yourself! You were there, with us!'
'Was I, Em? Was I, really?' He shook his head slowly, 'I just don't know. We could all be fooled...you, Yeats, myself...oh, gods only know...'
'But...' Emlyn did not like where this was going,
'But, I also know someone in the Otherworld, you know.' She looked down. 'Someone...like Anara is to you, so is he, to me.'
Daryl opened his eyes and sat up. 'Yes. You mentioned this once, I believe.'
'Yes...and it's rather odd...' Em began, a faraway look in her eyes, '...but last evening, while waiting for you, when we watched the 'Prince Caspian' film, well...I was surprised at how much he resembled Caspian; or rather, the actor who played him, resembles...my Otherworldly, ah, 'significant other', is that the term?'
'Hah. Yes; 'Otherworldly Significant Other' would do nicely, Em,' Daryl smiled. Briefly. Then frowned again, 'Hmm...interesting. You couldn't have possibly seen the film before, so, you couldn't have gotten his image from there...'
'Unlike yourself, Daryl, I know this isn't all in my mind,' Em was adamant. 'It comes from without.
Most of the time, unexpectedly. And, unwarranted, to my knowledge.'
'I wonder...' Daryl frowned her way. 'I wonder about Athena, and the gatehouse. More and more.'
'What has this to do with...Athena?' Em wondered herself.
'Athena's gatehouse is on the borderland. She is, in effect, the Guardian of the Threshold...'
Daryl's eyes half-closed in thought.
'"The Guardian at the Gate".' Em commented.
'Exactly. She, and we, would make a fine Triad ourselves. At the gatehouse...' Daryl rose then, staring out the window. 'Perhaps, tonight...'
'Daryl...!' Emlyn called after him, but he was already down the hall, and, taking his coat, flew out the door, slamming it behind him.
Em stared after him; knowing what was to come next. Daryl sought answers and she feared where he may seek to find them. She feared for him, most of all. The last time he plumbed the depths of the Cup, he'd lost his head...
. . . .
WATCH and LISTEN!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qQ3WqNWcXo4
THE PAN WITHIN
Come with me on a journey beneath the skin
Come with me on a journey beneath the skin
We will look together for the Pan within
Close your eyes, breathe slow and we'll begin
Close your eyes, breathe slow and we will begin
to look together for the Pan within
within...
Swing your hips, loose your head and let it spin
Swing your hips, loose your head and let it spin
and we will look together for the Pan within
Close your eyes, breathe slow, we'll begin
Close your eyes, breathe slow and we will begin
to look together for the Pan within
within...
Put your face to my window,
breathe a night full of treasure
The wind is delicious,
sweet and wild with the promise of pleasure
The stars are alive and nights like these
were born to be sanctified by you and me,
lovers, thieves, fools and pretenders
and all we've got to do
all we've got to do
all we've got to do is surrender
Come with me on a journey beneath the skin
Come with me on a journey beneath the skin
and we will look together for the Pan within
Close your eyes.....
Close your eyes....
Close your eyes, breathe slow, we'll begin, we'll
begin,
we'll begin, we'll begin, we'll begin to begin...
Written: St Marks Road London 1984/5
Appears: On "This Is The Sea", "Live Adventures"
and "The Whole Of The Moon
