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.
Sun Worship
On Equinox morning, the light of the rising Sun streams in a golden torrent down the hall.
I stand in worship, bathed in light.
Before such savage beauty, I bow and kiss the ground.
I rise and kiss my hand, adoring.
Love to you, my Light.
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