The turning of the eternal wheel of the seasons
the height of light and dearth of night,
Of moments spent in long, lingering embraces
held in the daylit gaze of my eyes,
of myself held in the gaze of my lover's eyes reflected,
as the world around me revolves, resolves itself,
and goes on it's way, heedless of me...
Th twilit even, the filling of the grain;
long eventides spent among my friends
revelling in the warmed air and light
sharing music, feast and fellowship
until night at long last reluctantly drifts in
like a shadow that would sooner stay apart
and listen to the tales and songs
than intervene, bringing all to an end...
The hours spent in daylight's brilliance
preparing the circle for the ritual
readying ourselves as much as the ring...
preparing to welcome the sun
on his return the following blessed morn:
the celebration can begin
the crops are sowed and we breath a moment
before we prepare for Lugh's heavy toil
as the wheel spins onwards, ever-turning,
like our hearts and lives, ever burning
like our spirits, ever lifted up in offering
to do no harm and as we would,
knowing our work is ever to do the good...
Love people and use things, NOT use people and love things...