The Old Ones

Old Gods are found in places unexpected

Behind the musty bookshelves

Filled with learning new and old,

Knowledge waits around the corner, 

For those that seek, if they be bold.

Inside the dusty lockboxes

Next to diamonds, silver, gold, 

The gods of wealth will smile

On those they like, truth be told. 

At the gates of cemeteries

The gods of death wait, ever ready. 

They guide the living through their grief, 

As they set the dead steady.

In the moonbeams of the night, 

The unending mystery

Of this sacred and lovely light

Small creatures dance and sing their songs.

The gods of old still live here, 

Through every rock and stone

Though many do not notice,

The gods change, adapt and hone. 

The creatures live in hiding, 

Or else they’ve now evolved. 

They live inside our cities, 

In the cracks inside our walls. 

The old does not desert the new,

Nor wait patiently alone.

It teaches, guides, and governs, 

As the new comes into its own. 

And yet the old ones still live on

Through challenge, loss, and need. 

They make their way, and now they say,

Though many may disbelieve: 

Always heed the warnings, 

Keep your true name to yourself. 

Be careful what you wish for,

For you never know what may be waiting

In that jar up on the shelf. 

Leave an offering of drink

For those you call your friends, 

They will help you, and defend you,

When all that you know ends.