She who is our Goddess


Behold She is revealed, the One who is Three but always One in unity,
The tripartite Maiden, Mother and Crone!
The Maiden for Springtime, The Mother in Summer and Autumntime, The Crone in Winter.
For without these there is no Life!
For each has their own time and place and without each, there is Chaos!
For without Spring, no Summer!
Without Summer, no Autumn!
Without Autumn, no Winter!
And without no Winter, no new Spring!
No planting, growing, harvesting, death, dormancy and rebirth!


Observe Her cycles as is the way of things!
For each their own, and unto each their Season!
For now is the time of Youth,
The Time of Planting, Cleansing and New Ventures!
The Time to begin anew as with all things,
As buds begin to open and bloom, so too shall you blossom,
For this is the Way of the Goddess to those that earnestly follow her, in their lives,
hearts and souls!

Though this be the time of planting and growing anew,
Ever bear in mind the Majesty and Unity of the Tripartite who is One,
She who is the Goddess who is known by many names!
Marvel at her wholeness, beauty, majesty and mystery,
That you too may become one, in and through Her Name!
For this is the Way of the Goddess!

And unto each Woman is given these three aspects,
That those who understand, may marvel and understand the uniqueness of each,
And, in turn, begin to understand but never truly comprehend,
She who is our Goddess!


All Hail and Blessed Be:
Maiden, Mother and Crone

-Llewellyn Morgan (01/02/2002)

 

Spiral Dance

I feel my heart pound in my glistening body

Beating within my flesh and within my spirit

Quick step around with call and chant

Toward the point within the circle

Bodies swerve in time

To build the cone of love and power

Swirling energy suspended about the perimeter

A wonderous gift of the Gods;

Of healing rays; a force of love

Twixt two realms we dance a jig of hope and praise

All hail to the Gods on Esbat day!

Peter Nash

 

Mountain Streams

Cascading, life blood of frost crested hilltops

Streams like veins meander past quivering heather,

Pine trees and moss coated boulder

Spray and charged ions bite the air

Electrifying, invigorating, sparkle in filtered sunlight

Rainbows form in pastel haze in steamy spray

Undines dance 'neath the pale hued arches

Mountain streams thunder past abodes of ancient Gods

Turning, falling, speaking as they flow forward

Into oblivion of ocean bound channels

Mountain streams revitalise, cleanse the inner soul

Tumbling as they pass by to eternity.

Mountain streams hiss and charge auras

Messengers speaking of the Gods

Rolling by, defying the centuries

Captivating repositories of nature's wisdom

Mountain streams soothe my spirit

And set my soul free.

Peter Nash

 

The Handfasting

Take my hand, walk with me

Through leafy woodland carpet

Hear the wind in the beeches

Singing accapella, moving the garlands in our hair

A natural symphony, toying with senses

Standing with reverence at the sacred site.

 

Face, you and I, the Druid Priest

A grove of oaks his chapel

The voices in the trees his bible

Beltane flowers his congregation

Uniting ! ! Yea, uniting, you and I

'Neath tree-filtered sunlight.

Peter Nash

 

A Pagan Dawn

Red streaks, split the clouds asunder

Mirroring the embers of a glowing Belfire

The sweet scent of the hawthorn

Mingles with the bonfire smoke

Stirring my mind and my spirit

The celebrations over; the old gods departed

Merriment under orange-hued heavens

The first omens of summer

Deep satisfaction waxes with the rising sun

Love pulses in the pale light of morning

Peter Nash

 

Last Nights Dream (Judgement Day)

I saw men bow down to the Goddess

Remorse upon their faces; called to judgement

They who pillaged Her; who raped our mother

Those who snuffed out stars; who took

But never gave; with greed and profit

In their treacle black hearts

Were called to give confession

To account for their awful deeds

Which scarred our planet's surface

And made her spirit weep

And sing a Plaintive swansong of latent heartbreak

 

And I saw the men that killed the trees

Praying now for the sweet mercy which

Their chainsaws and their axes never knew

I saw the men that swept aside our meadows

For concrete tongues and fumes and death

Face the scales and stern faces

Of woodland gods;and I heard the voices

Of departed eco-warriors delivering their verdict.

 

And I saw the men in clean white coats

They, who kill, maim and blind innocent creatures

In their futile research; paid sadists of the profiteers

Their eyes ran red with scarlet tears; blinded

By chemical cocktails. The screams of their tiny victims

Rang in their ears to eternity.

Threefold were the agonies they endured.

 

And I saw the slaughtermen and the butchers

In blood stained aprons; terror in their eyes

As realization hits their dormant consciousness

And voices sounded from the skies above

Every man who dares to exploit our mother

Who drained away her resources; Her lifeblood

Stood face to face the cold steel blade of Justice

For all were guilty in the lady's eyes

And all faced the sword of Themis.

 

And I awoke with hope in heart

I strode the streets in the pale dawn

I looked down at the rain soaked paving stones beneath my feet

The first shoots of deep green grass

Emerged beneath the cracks.

 

The clouds broke; a radiant beam

Of pale morning sunlight

Filtered down in healing rays.

My mind calmed; my heart lifted

I saw the first signs of her recovery

Peter Nash