I am the fire in the head.
I am the hare, I am the hawk,
I am the wave that breaks into the rock, and flies in rainbow drops
To the sky, to fall again with the rain. Down I go, my body,
A spear of water ripping open the earth, as I mutate
Into pebble, soil and seed. I split open my back with my resolve
And lift up to the sun. I grow. I die. I come to live
On this world once more. I whirl the currents of the Eastern wind,
I myself am my own storm: the lightning and thunder
Brimming and broiling in my blood. I have changed the course of rivers,
I have tilled valleys with the power of my Horns. I am the stag of the south,
I am the bear of the north, I have ridden dragons and become
The fire from their throats. I am destruction, ashes, and void.
I have loved the Mother in the cavern. I have sired the faraway stars,
The air you breathe, the food you eat, the soil you walk on,
I have willed it, I have been in it, I have become.
In your belly I rise, in your heart I have my throne.
I am the fire in the head,
The hawk of the east, the salmon of the west.
I am the above, the below, the centre, the in and out.
I am the eye that sees in the darkness, I am the light no eye can see,
I am the bread and the water, the plant and the beast.
I am the maker and the making and that which is being made.
I am the giver who’s always taking.
I am the fire in your head.