ORPHEUS II

Is this Elysium's voice, this beauty
born of celestial winds and
starlight? Sole truth would render
its tones so pure, its timbre
unerring, unwavering.

Is this a divinity, this glimmer that
glides upon waves of
Earth's own jubilation? Sole thy
silver tones, Great Minstrel,
could alchemise man's words and
notes into garlands worthy
of the gods.

Is this a panacea that streams from
thy throat? Sole Calliope's
child could illumine Earth's darkest
corners with paeans to
hope and love eternal, heal this
marred and broken world,
soothe spirits destitute of dreams.

Is this thy soul on wing, o son of
Parnassus? Sole such
amplitude could suffuse the four
winds, subdue the storm of
discontent raging in man's breast.

Is this an invocation, Orpheus, that
soars to Selene's heart?
Would that we mortals were
receptacles as worthy! Would that
we with our hearts listened
to thy sublime proffer!
Thusly would we attain absolution.

© 2015 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

Image: ORPHEUS

Source: imgkid.com
Artist: Hugues Jean François Paul Duqueylard

ĒOSTRE

I am the green wind that blows over the sleeping

earth, bidding life return to the land;

I am the voice that whispers to the Great Mother,

exhorting her to emerge in her blooming splendour;

I am the heartsong of the returning Sun, the refrain

of Creation, the paean of lengthening days;

I am the gentle warmth that melts the last snow,

the first bud bursting through the yielding soil;

I am the light of Aries' first point, the viridescent

jewel in Spring's varicoloured chaplet;

I am the longing of the seed for sunlit air, the first

stirring of life in the cool, dark soil; 

I am the womb that brings forth every garden and

field anew, the bounty that graces your table;

I am the first dewdrop upon Earth's verdant spread,

the rainbow mist that laces the treetops;

I am the golden lay that threads the endless blue

yonder, bearing the joy of renewal to distant stars;

I am the perfume of blossoming orchards, the tender,

opaline glow over rain drenched meadows; 

I am the dance of clouds to the music of mountain

streams, the silver cascade that stills your thirst;

I am Persephone, Flora, Cybele, Ashanti, Osiris and

Freya; the deities of Springtide and birth all hail.

© 2015 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

Image: FLORA AND THE ZEPHYRS

Source: bluebutterfliesandme.wordpress.com

Artist: John William Waterhouse

OSTARA

Anon shall the Goddess emerge

from the Great Below,

clad in veils of dreams she wove

in snow-kissed slumbers.

Into the ascending Light shall she

rise upon the iridescent

mist of gentle Spring showers, her

colours breathe into the winds. 

Winter's last shadows melt into the

the returning Sun's soft

brilliance. Silken strands of palest

gold sigh o'er the forest

floors, sparkling spirals swirl 'pon 

burgeoning brooks.

Silver strains of birth, of renewal and

hope, shall resound o'er 

Earth's children, kindling the inner

flame in ev'ry bloom,

sweetest songs in ev'ry bird's throat,

drawing all Creation

into her vein of expression.

Defer to the Great Mother, for now

she would touch the

pinnacle of her joy! E'en the stars

crave a glimpse of her 

glowing, vivifying splendour, yearn

to rest in her sweet embrace.

© 2015 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

Image: www.5mhrm.com

Image: thecelticjourney.wordpress.com

JOURNEY

A bright Spring moon silvers
the roof and the budding
pink cassias. Great sheets of
argent light deck the lawns.

Still, the house lies in shadow,
not a home, rather a hollow
draped in darkness, outlined in
spectral remnants of the 
brightness it cruelly disowned.

Sleep eludes me, dearest sister.
I stray into your rosarium; 
here, silver beams throw bushes
denuded of blooms into vivid
relief against the white walls.

Starkly silhouetted severed
stems summon my
tears; they speak a truth I do
not wish to know.

No power could restore you to
me, no entreaties to Him 
imbued with the collective 
fervour of every prayer uttered
through the ages. 

My grief's sole companion bids
me farewell. Did she minister
to you, sister, through the dark
night of your soul? 

The first shafts of deep coral
shed their faint radiance
above the slumbering gardens.
Lovingly they swaddle each
leaf and thorn in misty pink-gold,
in your beloved hues.
In this light, you live, in its
soft, warm glow.

A whirlwind of whispers breaks
in upon the silent verdure, 
as doves and thrushes rise into
the dawn with one accord.

Do you ascend with them, sister,
you, who now stand upon
the ætheric threshold of a joyous
new adventure?

Yes, you have merged with gentle
Eos, blithe spirit!
We shall greet each other as
always at daybreak.

© 2015 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

Image: CORDELIA
Source: www.liveinternet.ru
Artist: Élisabeth Sonrel

1. 
   

WAKE

Spring weeps this day for you

who came to Earth

with rainbows in her eyes and

a heart full of song.

Her sobs echo in your rosarium,

slipping into spaces

where carmine blooms nodded

in the morning breeze.

A single coral rose graces your

eternal rest. Her sisters

seek to lend our now bereft abode

 your warmth and soul.

I stagger back into a vapid world

destitute of heart and

vision, wending my way through

a miasma of pretense.

Cold silences of bygone decades

ooze through cracks in

masks of studied sorrow. Dark's

minions have triumphed.

Wandering the house, I seek further

traces of you. Endless

bushels of living flames could not

illumine this darkness.

Your lilac apron lies in a crumpled

heap on the kitchen

table by your phone, your smiling

incarnation its wallpaper.

I shall not weep this day, dearest

sister. My tears shall 

fall when the last of your beloved

roses begins to fade.

© 2015 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

Image: YOUNG WOMAN READING
Source: pinterest.com
Artist: Samuel Melton Fisher

ABSENCE

All morning, I endeavoured

to fill your absence

with coral roses, remnants

of your earthly life

that laugh louder than you

ever ventured to.

I plundered every last bloom

from your beloved

bushes, sister. Your radiance

shall not go unseen

this day, nor your restoring

fragrance unmarked. 

Butterflies and bees enact a

varicoloured musical

sketch in the garden, buzzing

and flitting to the

lingering rhythms of airs you

sang to them alone. 

Henceforth, I shall tend these

shrubs with my wonted

discipline, a poor substitute

for your gentle devotion.

Perhaps Heaven's warriors,

weary from battling evil,

have greater need of you

than mere mortals,

of your hands and eyes that

spoke the language

of Eternal Light.

© 2015 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

Image Source: www.liveinternet.ru
Artist: Constance Phillott

EULOGIUM

Strange, how self-preservation

inspires such ornate speech,

such poignant expression...

Furtive, conspiratorial whispers

yield to moving eloquence

about your beauty,

about your numerous virtues.

Dust laden, mildewed verbiage,

platitudes stowed away

in those sunless cellars they

call minds, these are

this world's parting gifts to you.

Through a veil of numbness, I

watch them as they spout

grandiloquent verbs and phrases 

culled from a thesaurus

yellowed with age, punctuating

dissemblance with impassioned

sobbing, as if to drown out

echoes of their own cruel design.

Yes, your silence fell too long on

deaf ears. They shall now 

outdo themselves and each other

in their eagerness to reference

you in the past tense.

I shall favour brevity
just this once, my dear sister:

"Words could not fill the spaces

into which you breathed life.

No, these are merely unwitting

vehicles of your trespassers' guilt.

You shall be avenged."

© 2015 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

Image: THE YOUNG MARTYR

Source: www.wanderlustlust.com

Artist: Paul Delaroche