Cernunnos walks, wild-countenanced and alone, through the forest lands; His every step speaks to the ground, to the trees, to the birds. Cernunnos walks, and where He walks, wilderness follows. Cernunnos walks among ancient oaks and yew trees, hears the words in their rustling leaves and knows them. He is older than them all.
Cernunnos walks by the riverside, stands in the shadow of a horse chestnut and watches the otters in the water. Cernunnos calls, wild-voiced and confident, and the birds flock to Him in reply; the horses kick at their stable doors; the foxes, mice, and squirrels hurry towards Him because He is here! He is here! Cernunnos sits in the shade of the trees and they welcome Him as their own.
Cernunnos walks up to my house, dirt on His face and a wild light in His eyes. His antlers will not fit through the door. Cernunnos walks up to my house and calls my name in the roaring wind, and I will go to Him, I will go, I will go…
My Lover sits with me on damp grass in the still of the night, watches the stars with me, whispers in my ear. Cernunnos calls me to dance.