A Pagan Rapture
Glory to the ancient fire!
Father of awareness
how often have I burned in you?
Eons of long winter nights
sitting around listening
to your stories.
Dead upon a pyre
you brought me home.
Alive again on your flame
I learned not to fear you.
Blessed are the burned
for they shall inhabit you
as children of the universe.
Boyant on that birthing river
sailing toward that distant star
remembering our passion
we become again the garden.
Remembering our birthright
we become again the sun.