We knock on wood in hopeful tone, to ward off ill to set the stone,
but do you know what lies beneath the grain, the bark, the hidden sheath.
In ancient woods where shadows play, and night outlasts the light of day,
there stands the trees so old and wise, guardians of our earth and skies.
Each knock we give a plea, a rite, a call within the darkest night
but every tap a price to pay for the wood, the spirits sway.
They listen close with ears unseen to promises and what they mean,
the wood remembers and keeps the score of all the knocks from days of yore.
The tree it groan, it knows your fears, your hopes, your dreams your hidden tears,
it holds them in its ancient core, each knock a bond forever more.
But beware the knock without respect, a hollow sound, a false aspect,
for the spirits know and they discern the truthful heart from one that spurns.
So when you knock remember well the tale that ancient forest tell,
of spirits old and powers vast, in wooden realms where time has passed.
The Grimoire of Forgotten Fairytales eBook – WilliamMooreMusic