This was written at the request of a friend for the Midsummers ritual of his group.
Long have you grown;
strong, and hard, and true,
reaching up from the dark Below,
until your branch-fingers grasped the sun:
You, reaching You,
strength holding brightness,
power, burning,
standing in unsullied glory.
Roots snake deep into the darkness.
You spread these too, just as your branches;
those seen, these hidden;
those fed, these feeding,
You basing your body on the Below
Your branches reach up, pulling your body with them;
Your roots reach down, pulling on your body as well.
It is time.
Standing in your glory, the branches and the sun,
can you feel the pull downwards?
The Dark has its turn.
You needed the darkness to feed your light, but nothing is free.
It is time to pay, to fill the hungry darkness
which pulls you down into death.
A true king does not go on the journey into darkness alone:
he must be accompanied by an honor guard.
This is yours, Oak King:
you go with the four,
you go with the five.
I give them their marching orders:
Air, when he is in the great emptiness, be his breath.
Fire, when he is in the great cold, be his warmth.
Water, when he is in the great dryness, be his moisture.
Earth, when he is in the great stillness, be his sustenance.
And you, Spirit, when he is in the great death, be his life.
Stand around in protection, you four,
protecting the body of the Oak King untill the expected time of growing.
Dwell within, Spirit, protecting his life until the expected time of growing:
in the time of fading away, do not let him forget.
These are your orders, you four, you five.
You may sink into the darkness,
Oak with the Sun in your branches,
with your honor guard about you.
|
|
|
|
Main Page