This poem is inspired by the 5 beautiful women I travelled to the U.K with. It is written at Tintagel Castle, Cornwell where lies fascinating legends of King Arthur and the Round Table. I dedicate this poem to all the powerful goddesses that you are.

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Under the firy sun,

Under the strong rock,

There is a scent of women,

That melts the gun,

That eases the hard.



Have you any ideas how powerful this wind is?

For it bends the tree to a humble knee.

For it shapes the mountain without being seen.



The power may not be leaned on

But thy power shall be lived.

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