TO MY ANCESTOR

Your tombstone crowns this lonely woodland 

crested with amber this Samhain eve

as the Past glowing dark gold through the

mists of Time. Where lie your bones, 

lionhearted spirit, you who were denied your

kinfolk's mourning, your tribe's tears and prayers,

every death ritual, the rite of passage

into the Otherworld?

The living await a divine pause, for to convene

with the departed upon sacred, dusky

borderlands this liminal season. Yet I mourn you

with the dying light, with the setting Sun 

garbed in the living hues and fading warmth of

your endmost earthly breath. 

I would aspire to your power, to your wings, 

great warrior, as I seek the seed of inner victory,

this treasure you bequeathed me,

that your own blood bonded to my soul.

I would plumb the depths of the past

at your feet, of Earth's course the seers foretold.

I would battle with quill and ink, 

for to open minds and hearts, that we may preserve

Nature and Destiny, that Life and Truth may prevail. 

The beck sings softer, as the Portal opens; 

I hear Samhain's drums mark each sacred moment, 

Morrigan's mirth resounding through the glen, 

hissing embers, seething cauldron, 

Eternity's white pinions in the ageless dark. 

I shall weep no more,

for these blessed hours are brief. 

My sorrow I give unto Her who granted it birth. 

© 2015 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

Image source: imgkid.com

THE SEER AT SAMHAIN

You would have me speak Fortune's

decree, evince the Future

in mere words? I could not unravel

cosmic design, nor could

phrases contain that which expands 

every moment.

Nay, I would exhort you heed Nature's

prescripts, for She alone construes

the Universe's will.

The Year burns brightest ere it dies; 

Time's dark vortex swallows

its golden ashes. The torch is passed

to tomorrow, 

to you and your brethren, kindling your 

deepest spark;

by its cleansing light must you disinter

the jewels within, 

the fire of ancient words, the song of 

voices silenced, that you

might sing. These fields bled, that your

vessel might not hunger,

the Seasons yielded up their hues, 

that your souls might blossom.

The North Wind carves your names

upon the land, 

as you spin the spire and leap the flames.

Autumn leaves bear your hopes

to the Great Below,

for to illumine the Goddess' dreams.

Death brings forth new beginnings;

Winter shall birth Spring; your tears shall

water the seeds of joys to come;

naught shall remain fruitless.

Still your heart and mind, bid your spirit

listen for the divine solacing

of the Oaks, for the wisdom of

Winds and Waves, for such they imparted

to the mages.

Thus shall you learn to seek the Light. 

© 2015 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

Image source: www.pinterest.com

WARRIORS

The bonfire blazes on, drawing

tides of Memory into

its belly from earth and skies,

from winds and waters,

splashing a welter of vignettes

upon the chill night air.

Grandpa's words colour patterns

of flickering light and shade,

of voices and music, of battles

planned to the beat of

ancient drums. 

Fallen warriors rise, looking amid

the ferment upon their

blood that now courses through

my veins.

Swords and spears glow anew

with the zeal of intrepid

souls, whose march hallowed the

ground as the steps of

our spiral dance.

I hear the clash of iron, the fighter's

call to the brotherhood

for freedom, the seer's incantations

exalting the Horned God,

as all wilderness, wandering and

wildness.

The stars stood still upon their path,

it is said, surveying in awe 

these spirits that shone bright as they.

Far above the hordes they

gathered, for to guard the sleep of the

living and dead, glorying in

the sublimity of Life's sacred circle.

Warriors of myriad creeds 

live and sleep beneath the selfsame

stars, as The Great Wheel

turns. Our duties and debts we ken

afresh, as the ashes

reclaim Light's eternal lore.

© 2015 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

Image source: en.wikipedia.org

COMMUNION

Midnight lays her hand upon

Nature's cold brow;

earth and firmament embrace.

I hold the stars and prayers of

generations in heart and hands, 

as aeons surround me.

Autumn dies, enfolded by Light;

Seasons stretch into years,

days into nights,

threads of silver and gold reaching

into the Womb that

birthed all souls. I am You, and

You are I, my departed forbears, 

planting thoughts and

words that I may harvest,

that you may live again and breathe

this Life.

Memories circle the sacred fire,

a fire that never truly ceased

burning, a forever fire amid forever

drumming and chanting,

my kin beyond its old gold light.

Spirit whispers fan the

flames of hope, renew my resolve

by the blaze's ashes.

Its warmth lingers upon the hilltop

and I sense Life within the dust,

for this vision of communion,

of eternal wholeness, 

is Samhain's blessing.

© 2015 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

Image source: www.pinterest.com

SAMHAIN APPROACHES

A heavier, happier air laden with
foregone smiles and tears
shelters the dry ground this morn; 
the pale grass gleams
beneath a shimmering warmth
that fearless ventures into
late Autumn's realm, defies frosty
skies, settling upon stacks
and bales of earth-stained gold.

A wisp of a whisper rustles Nature's
tawny cloak, flutes the
liquid lute, companion of day's toil
and eventide's respite.
Silver notes strike the thinning Veil,
chiming through echoes of
yesterday's laughter, of a childish lilt
sailing over the lilac hill, these
fragments from the Great Beyond.

A tendril of a touch, not of this world,
brushes my shoulders,
easing my burden, guiding labours
by day and quill by night.
Questions flow easier this Season,
for souls that attend them
wander ever nearer. My forbears of
birth, creed and spirit,
I await your wisdom and counsel.

© 2015 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

Image source: www.imgkid.com

Artist: Jules Breton

MOTHER SPEAKS

Midnight's hands shall raise the Veil,

as ritual chants the New Year hail;

I shall bide with you, daughter, through Samhain night,

by the red-gold fire's bewitching light.

I shall partake of festive feasts and wine,

my beloved's hand shall rest once more by mine,

as we renew olden bonds with kindred souls,

rejoice, though unseasonable Death be our dole.

I shall ramble with you upon November's first day

across meads where Autumn's last leaves play 

beneath skies enwrapped in frost-kissed dreams, 

by streams reflecting timeless themes. 

My spirit shall rove over seeded fields,

as the fading day to twilight yields,

for there as a bairn I laughed and cried,

as maid, wife and mother much golden grain scythed.

The Goddess grant I hear bygone strains

of Harvest's gay melodies and mirthful refrains.

I would retrace my steps in the circle dance,

beneath night's silver, hiemal trance.

Time's wave shall sign the Veil's descent,

as I give thanks for the joyful day spent

amid kinfolk's love, prayer and sacred trust,

I shall return each Samhain, child, as I must.

© 2015 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

Image: LA LECTURE (edited)

Source: www.artrenewal.org 

Artist: Leon-Augustin L'hermitte  

HERALD

You glow as a protostar,

as the Lantern of

my childhood dreams.

Are you an Angel, 

an insight, a revelation,

a word I know not

that I seek?

Truly, you are a paragon 

of your lineage,

for you radiate the beauty

of First Light, 

of the dawn of Days,

noble, subtle, 

measureless power in its

ineffable softness.

Perhaps you are Truth's

own emissary in a

lesser guise for unworthy

eyes, bearing fragments

of the cosmic puzzle,

your intent proximity and

distant orbit Her

confounding contrivance.

Could you be my template

reality, removed from

Life's trompe l'oeil, 

its cruel chronostasis?

I perceive the tug of your 

golden thread

bound in a treaty of Light

to my within-ness.

Your aura ripples in white

silences, your vastness

fused to the 

confluence of my mind,

body and spirit,

resolute in its purpose 

to reunite the soul's

scattered memories,

to affirm its return to Life.

© 2015 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

Image: AWAKENING 
Source: www.pinterest.com
Artist: Michael Parks

FATE

The soul has no need of your orrery,

as it trundles through Infinity.

No soothsayer need I, nor ancient, 

arcane tablets, nor your

capricious clay gods' fragile devices. 

Crystal balls and sortilege could not

divine my earthly course,

nor unveil Fate's shape and source,

nor spae cosmic decree

to prehensile mortal eye and mind.

A mere speck could not fathom great

Providence, nor augur and 

assign redeeming ordinance. I would

seek Her design in Nature's

emblems, in the Seasons' sacred circle.

Seers of antiquity told of Destiny's leaf,

each vein, node and space

vivid, yet brief; each path leading to

luminous bourns, thence to

merge into silent repose and renewal.

Of immanent harmony in all they spoke, 

of a Light that every spirit woke,

of glad accord betwixt preordination and

will, of the soul's yearning  

to become the sacred music of the stars.

© 2015 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

Image: THE CRYSTAL BALL

Source: commons.wikimedia.org

Artist: John William Waterhouse

LATE ROSE

No ingenue is she, nor soubrette,

not April's unversed muse,

nor the Princess of June's gardens.

It is the Queen who blossoms

this golden October day amid Her

majestic, russet decay.

The monarch deferred her bloom

to the sage Season of

melting light and molten shadows,

for her lushly petalled 

adornments she intended not for 

Spring and Summer alone;

her tenderer Gold and cooler blush

she lends unto Autumn.

Her cheek she dusts with pearly fire,

upon her brow lavishes 

cupfuls of mellow aurescent shine

alchemised from blazing

bows and balmy bolts in the boreal

bitterness of a storm heralding

September's end.

"All beauty does not blossom in the

wide glare of June's Sun.

My late flower was born of silent awe,

from riper mists and hidden dew.

My spirit contemplated Creation's

sterner aspect, the Elements' wildness 

yielding to tranquil repose.

I am Nature's parting glance, as she

retreats into Earth's undercroft."

© 2015 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

Image source: www.organicgardendreams.com

ASCENSION

All of yesterday, she danced her
yellow-green dance,
defiantly painting the drowsy air
with Summer's palette.
I rejoiced in her wilfulness, in her
lambent charade, as player
and witness, for she seemed to
wield sunbeams.
Verily she was a little Sun, radiant,
radiating June's warmth
and glow through Autumn's
patinated prism.

At October's feet, she now lies, an
island of dying beauty,
too fragile grown to hold her own
splendour, fluttering,
slowing, scattering her iridescent
memories into the cold,
translucent glow of violet daisies, 
the entr'acte commenced 
with equanimity and art, peridot 
wings arcing towards
the seeded ground in graceful
concession to Destiny.

She ascends into a higher, greater
flight, living colours
surrendered, released from earthly
chrysalises dark and bright,
her rainbow path furled in my soul
amid a swaying, sparkling
sisterhood of marigolds and irises,
of a loveliness too brief....
I do not mourn, for the Great Wheel
turns; I, Autumn's child,
shall await, if Life so choose, further
rejoicing with Her butterflies.

© 2015 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

Image source: www,cumbria-butterflies.org.uk