All night
the ancient ring of stones and dolmens hums its energies. Dawn’s faint light
lifts the darkness, a rosy halo rises above the skyline, and now the sun’s
first beam strikes though the granite archway. Hail sun-god, bearer of light
and power. Hail, bright deity, ascending the zodiacal arch, and reaching the
zenith of the year. Druids welcome you with drumming, blowing of curling horns.
The crowning of the year is yours, the time of greatest force and potency.
Birch, fennel, white lilies and trefoil are your early offerings. Bonfires are
lit, holy men cut staffs and wands from hazel, birch, and willow. The trees of
summer, charged by your fullness, hold your most potent magic. Day of feast and
celebration, honouring the oak, the Summer King, with rolling of fiery wheels.
Now is the dark diminished. Mabon, the sacred child, is victor. Divine Light,
shining god in brightest splendour, reaches to fullest glory.
From The Celtic Book of Seasonal Meditations,
by Claire Hamilton
By North Utsire
No comments:
Post a Comment