“. . . the dance of Him and Her seeking and losing each other throughout infinity . . .” — Miguel Serrano
Always is a long time. Even so I
Can promise you that I will love you for
All of it — every second of it. My
World is built upon and around you — sky,
Land, sea, caverns, stars — because I adore
You and would not live in any spot or
Speck of this place that did not contain your
Essence. Everywhere and always, you and
Me. Everywhere and always both of us.
That is what I always seek, understand
That and you understand me. Countermand
And . . . no, there is no countermand, no trust
Broken, no love torn away, there is just
Us. Just seeking and losing, hearts in hand.
The Sacred Quickening: Inguz
And now reddened branches on grey root stock.
And now pale green thrusts of life in bark, in
Dirt, in pots: above, beneath, beside. Stalks,
Buds, leaves, stems, each suddenly becoming.
The mud grit of cold ground, the barren yard,
The empty meadow, the brittle under-
Brush — all yield and change away. So Midgard
Wakes. Again the seasonal surrender
Of ice to fire: dark to light. The cycles
Turned, returned. And now mice dip and drink from
Warm puddles. And now birds gather beakfuls
Of just sprouted seedlings. And now bees hum.
Kenaz woven back on itself, Gebo
Repeated. Life urges upward, forward, now.