Day Eight
December/24/2006 09:44 AM
In hnor of Dionysos and Apollo, I am off work today, and I will be heading to town for a few good drinks. This will be later tonight, but in the meantime, the Gods Dionysos and Apollo are being offered incense and prayer today.
Go North, o god of light, and be well.
Go North, o god of healing, and make well those in need.
Go North, o god of the song, and let music guide us to laughter.
Go North, o god of purification, and let me be pure this day.
Come again, o god, when your time has come.
Come again, o god, when the spring time comes.
Come again o god, when we need you the most.
Eyes like the fruit of the vine.
You grow with tremendous speed to cover the brown earth.
Sprawled forth to catch the light of day in your growth and maturation.
Your purpose a mystery, your power unthinkable, your stregth immeasurable.
Mind like the turbulent storm, your father.
You grow green and resplendent suckling from the bosom of our mother.
Relishing in the heat of the sun, your fruit the promise to come.
Your wild nature a sign from above, a power from below, a brother you are.
Body like the most beautiful of men.
You grow virile and filled with the passion of life.
Lying upon a bed of leaves, your legs spread just so much, inviting.
Your promises of lust, of knowledge, of madness lying at the very edge of mind.
Soul like the fire of the sun, like the darkness of night.
You whither and die, your ebbing power still too much to bear.
Swimming in a sea of pain, your ashes all that remains.
Your seed planted will once again rise, from the depths of death and darkness.
Godhead like the fog of morning.
You come and go at will, yours or mine I cannot say.
Sitting at the seat of our souls like a flower cut in full bloom.
Your gifts are innumerable, my acceptance fraught with fear and loathing.
Eyes like the fruit of the vine.
You look at me and I can feel it.
Staring at the child I once was, at the man I have become.
Your pleasures are mine, my abuse of them my curse forever more.
To Apollo, a prayer of farewell:
Go North, o god of light, and be well.
Go North, o god of healing, and make well those in need.
Go North, o god of the song, and let music guide us to laughter.
Go North, o god of purification, and let me be pure this day.
Come again, o god, when your time has come.
Come again, o god, when the spring time comes.
Come again o god, when we need you the most.
To Dionysos, an old prayer/poem I wrote many years ago:
Eyes like the fruit of the vine.
You grow with tremendous speed to cover the brown earth.
Sprawled forth to catch the light of day in your growth and maturation.
Your purpose a mystery, your power unthinkable, your stregth immeasurable.
Mind like the turbulent storm, your father.
You grow green and resplendent suckling from the bosom of our mother.
Relishing in the heat of the sun, your fruit the promise to come.
Your wild nature a sign from above, a power from below, a brother you are.
Body like the most beautiful of men.
You grow virile and filled with the passion of life.
Lying upon a bed of leaves, your legs spread just so much, inviting.
Your promises of lust, of knowledge, of madness lying at the very edge of mind.
Soul like the fire of the sun, like the darkness of night.
You whither and die, your ebbing power still too much to bear.
Swimming in a sea of pain, your ashes all that remains.
Your seed planted will once again rise, from the depths of death and darkness.
Godhead like the fog of morning.
You come and go at will, yours or mine I cannot say.
Sitting at the seat of our souls like a flower cut in full bloom.
Your gifts are innumerable, my acceptance fraught with fear and loathing.
Eyes like the fruit of the vine.
You look at me and I can feel it.
Staring at the child I once was, at the man I have become.
Your pleasures are mine, my abuse of them my curse forever more.