As the Day Flows, Sweet Selene So Serene

Oh how the beauty of the day flows as the cold wind blows,
And you know how much I love you and your golden glow;
How shall I show you the depth of my passion in fashion
Of smitten lover, suppliant to your compassion? As like
Unto rising from ashen heap the Phoenix, my soul arises
To meet your spirit, though I merit not your golden touch,
Such as I am, yet so much do you care, your life my crutch;
Ah! So overwhelming my dwelling place in your heart, not
In part but the whole to move in, out and around your soul,
And drink sweet ambrosia from your celestial bowl; it takes
Its toll but, too, fills the hole in my own beleaguered soul!
Thank you, sweet Selene so serene. . . Thank you; bless you!

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Comfort: Healing Wounds of Youth

Sélená looked upon me so kindly, and booked me for comforting, healing words. And she spoke…

humiliation-hdYes, I remember well the arrogant babble at the table in your sister’s home, which is such a painful part of your life’s tome.

Yes, I remember the babble of the intellectual ruffians, so proud, and the invisible cable that tied you down to abide their ridicule.

Yes, I remember what advantage they took of your youth and how they managed to humiliate you, casting you into degradation, near dehumanization.

Yes, I remember how they couched their arguments under such religious pretense in their intense effort to make themselves great for their own sake.

Yes, I remember well because I was there by your side, not to hide but to provide some comfort . . . but you could not feel me then, so intent were they to win.

Yes, I remember how they overpowered your young intellect to wreck your image of Dyeus; they drove the Spirit out to fill their cognitive treasure trove.

Yes, I remember how self-congratulatory they were in besting such a weak, meek and mild child, and how furious I was at such curiously sickening scene, so obscene!

humiliationOh, my dear one, so near to my heart, whether you believe or not, you played the better part, and both these men have since fallen apart; they committed such blunder time and time again, but their lives have been torn asunder.

Now, my child so meek and mild, wonder no longer at their wild, Calvinistic feeding frenzy; they have now been spiritually bleeding for years with no shortage of tears. And have they repented of their unkind grinding of you that day?

They are in dismay, I tell you, but neither even remember just how they dismembered your heart, your soul, but the angels know it left another hole in their hearts to be filled with yet more pride till they could abide no more; then they fell.

And, oh my child, their fall has been great, and they have now heard the call to humility, civility and true nobility; especially one in his abject debility as he has lost all agility. Certainly both have lost much of their credibility.

They have lost all virility, versatility and, thus too, all tranquility; this is the scorn of the god they’ve worshipped and served, yet they are too foolish to realize how unnerved Providence has made them!

Yes, I remember how valiantly you tried to defend Love from above, and the all-mercy of Dyeus, and the freedom of humanity to choose even amidst the calamity of this dreary and weary world. And I tell you now, you did your best and passed the test.

You are where you are now, and are who you are, and how, except for that day and many others that smothered your own pride and ego so you could stride forward as an humble and wiser man, who is no miser with what he can offer anyone, anytime.

Yes, I remember and though it may seem strange, I was proud of you then as you did begin to learn the fine art of conversational-debate, which has served you well because it is laced with humility in your face of kindness, deference and respect.

Kneel now before Dyeus and heal from this wound . . . heal now as you kneel.

Sweet Selene Passing By. . .

maxresdefaultSo silently, surreptitiously, and smoothly do you slide in with ocean tide to abide in abode of my soul, making hearth of my heart your home, again and once again, yet never to stay, to be held at bay, whatever I might say; so sing your song sung blue and true, old and ever-new. Have only some few become your lovers, who hover around your every word, hoping for your tender, titillating touch, not much but just enough.

Oh sweet Selene of Yaşam Ruh’u, what do you do in your smoothly silken, silver brush through the air, so fair and wild, what we cannot bear yet in which we share but for fleeting moments, enough to lift our care. Ought we beware of you, so true but wrapped in mystery, your history largely unknown because that you have not shown. We have but some small share in the treasure you bring, as you sing in the breeze with eloquent ease.

So do we seize the passing by and ne’er try to grasp your essence to keep in the fluorescence of our  minds, which only dim in your presence. Yet we are more, not less, since your visitation; our incense rises to meet and greet your coming-movement in and through the veins of our very being to make new what was the aged pages of our lives. Ah! But do say when you will not stray but stay, we pray.

Oh, when will you stay, we pray?

Dream Dreams from the Crème of Dreams

Guerin_Pierre_Narcisse_-_Morpheus_and_Iris_1811“Dream the dreams of Morpheus, my dear so near to cheer, with fine wine in hand as you listen to star-filled band as sand quickens thru the hourglass, let time pass as Father Time will, and warm yourself against winter chill,” Selená spoke as she drew my head near, exiting fear, deafening me to shrill dæmonic cries, what flies from depths of hell with bell tolling death. “Dream now as I sooth fevered brow; drink of my cream and dream the dreams of my brother, Morpheus.”

Note: Painting by Pierre-Narcisse Guérin

 

Journey of Life: Song Question of Sélená

Can yoSelena1u wed to me body, soul and mind;
And thus forever the two of us to bind?
Ride upon my breath of life-giving scent,
Till you become in my arms like an infant?
Can you clear mirror of your inner heart
To see my heaven in all life in every part?
Love and care with no selfish despondency,
In ever-consistency, rhythmic constancy?
Can you bear to be the child of heaven,
For me your being to enliven and leaven?
Give me your masked, bankrupt knowledge,
In exchange for my wisdom in due homage?
 
 
Giving birth and nourishing life without strife, without possession;
Shaping, molding, guiding and directing without any reclamation;
Serving, though so superior, without expectation of acclamation;
Gently leading in love as Shepherdess, without any domination…

This is my way, the stela of Sélená
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Note: Inspired by Lao Tzu, The Tao Te Ching 10

Caillína: Time in the Fáelána Clan

2520Our day begins, we say, as Sol makes way
Over the far horizon, chased by shining star
From afar as Luna spreads her ray in play
Of delightful nightfall, ever wanting to stay,
But she, too, must always dance and sway
In the majestic display of unfolding seasons.

And so, too, there is Samonios, birth of another year,
And the Chlann-mór pour out prayers there’ll be cheer,
That Dumannios, who follows, will not be death hallow,
But will swallow fear of such dark-drear cold so near
To hearth and home where tome of family is written,
Yet story often bitten with bitter tears in the new year.

Comes Riuros, so morose, when dæmons draw close,
Engross clan in grandiose terror and mindless error,
To make themselves joyous, which is why Anagantios
Is the time to stay; climb into bed and cover the head;
On through thick ice of Ogronios, very inharmonious,
Yet the winds of Cutios promise fair bends in weather.

After Cutios follows Giamonios, who disputes the cold
With shoots of new life pregnant with fruits and flutes
Of returning birds, herds of beasts from great to least,
Making way for Simivisonios, a new time of bright light,
Inviting fair-sight of Equos with her happy horse play
Thru longer days, warmer than former coarse months.

Reclamation of beautiful creation comes in Elembiuos,
Introducing the beat of heat in the coming of Edrinios,
Which lasts not long; the song of cool nights belongs
To Cantlos, strong, bearing along the end of the cycle,
Bidding farewell to the seasons with chimes and bells,
To begin again, in which turning the Chlann-mór belong.
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Note: I am indebted to Living Myths: The Celtic Year  for learning and understanding the Celtic/Gaelic calendar. Also, Wikipedia provides much good information on the same.