Paganistan: Notes from the Secret Commonwealth
In Which One Midwest Man-in-Black Confers, Converses & Otherwise Hob-Nobs with his Fellow Hob-Men (& -Women) Concerning the Sundry Ways of the Famed but Ill-Starred Tribe of Witches.
Reset
Och, I keep screwing up the prayers. I keep forgetting that it's Winter now.
Temple worship has its own style, like set prayers. But even set prayers don't always stay the same.
Red Coat crowned with antler
(in winter: blue)
that sit cross-legged in the Mother's heart
(or: womb),
to you, to you, my Stag,
I make my prayer.
Oh, well. Give me another few days; eventually I'll get it right. We've got a lot of Winter ahead.
Blue Coat crowned with antler
(in summer: red)
that sit cross-legged in the Mother's heart,
and womb,
to you, to you, my Stag,
I make my prayer.
Comments
-
Please login first in order for you to submit comments