A rush of wind, quick,
. flying crisp brown leaves,
. cheeks red in the cold,
in this moment all stops
. a presentation,
. an apparition frozen in motion,
change is marked
. not yet apparent,
expectation stalls in the restless air.
Dying King why do you come here?
. Is it really time to go?
Wait, wait for the failing light
to waft the year’s end away.
You’ve aged so quickly,
. Bounding Youth of spring,
. so desired then
. spreading your seed
. in the maiden fields,
. so wasted now.
Your shifting phases of mortality
. All that lives dies
. all that dies lives,
the juncture of ambiguity, being,
Dionysus, Corn God ephemeral.
You, Our precious sacrifice, our marker
erect the burning tree,
impale yourself into its branches
. above the gaily wrapped gifts
. of passions spent,
and then farewell
. into the dark times
. solstice born.
Pray with us,
. as the tree burns your
. light away
for rebirth, for repetition
that the turning orb
. of Olympian chariots
. carries the Sun Child,
. the Reborn King
. down to earth again,
that he will rampage
. over the dead fields
. spray the golden touch
. of young semen /
. impregnate
. us.
12/21/2014
Remember:
Days of darkness
Days of death
the solstice marks the end of Kings
and the long slow reawakening of life
the coming of Mithras, and a Christ
who’ll die with the year for everyone
that their blood will flood the fields
bequeath fertility to the earth.