Dodona: Whispers In The Oak

In Epirus where the mountains rise so tall
Where Tomaros guards the sacred ground
Two black doves from distant Thebes did fall
One to Libya, one where Zeus was found
Upon an oak the dove spoke words divine
"Here shall mortals seek the will of gods,"
The Selloi priests with unwashed feet align
Sleeping on earth, following ancient laws

Whispers in the oak, rustling leaves of fate
Dione and Zeus Naios, guardians of the gate
From the second millennium, wisdom flows
Through the sacred grove where prophecy grows
Bronze cauldrons sing in the mountain breeze
Ancient voices carried through the trees
Dodona's oracle, oldest of them all
Where mortals come to hear the gods' call

Hermon seeks the blessing for his wife
Kretaia waits for children yet unborn
Common folk bring questions of their life
Written on lead tablets, hopes worn
Four thousand voices from the distant past
Greek names etched in metal, prayers sincere
From sixth century to second, holding fast
To faith that gods would make their future clear

Whispers in the oak, rustling leaves of fate
Dione and Zeus Naios, guardians of the gate
From the second millennium, wisdom flows
Through the sacred grove where prophecy grows
Bronze cauldrons sing in the mountain breeze
Ancient voices carried through the trees
Dodona's oracle, oldest of them all
Where mortals come to hear the gods' call

Pyrrhus came with royal dreams so grand
Built a theater, temples reaching high
Made Dodona the heart of his domain
Where mortals and immortals could reply
Alexander sought the oracle's word
Of Pandosia and Acheron's flow
Not knowing fate's cruel twist would be heard
In distant lands where he would meet his woe

Peleiades, the gray-haired priestesses wise
Interpreted the doves' melodic song
The acorns fell, the bronze wheels harmonize
Sacred springs murmured truths lifelong
From Gaia's ancient worship to Zeus's reign
Dione shared the throne of prophecy
Through centuries of joy and mortal pain
The oak tree held divine mystery

Whispers in the oak, rustling leaves of fate
Dione and Zeus Naios, guardians of the gate
From the second millennium, wisdom flows
Through the sacred grove where prophecy grows
Bronze cauldrons sing in the mountain breeze
Ancient voices carried through the trees
Dodona's oracle, oldest of them all
Where mortals come to hear the gods' call

Though Theodosius cut the sacred tree
And silenced voices of the ancient days
The spirit of Dodona still runs free
In every prayer that modern pilgrims raise
For in the hearts of those who seek the light
The whispers of the oak forever sound
Where mortal questions meet divine insight
On Dodona's ever-hallowed ground