celtic paganism
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I gaze into the pool, clear and reflective, like a looking glass, mirroring myself back to me. Your hand rests ‘pon my shoulder, rugged fingers curling into my shirt. I rip my eyes from that watery looking glass, to your antler-crowned head. O’ Gwyn ap Nudd, White, son of Mist, you hold the looking glass,
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O’ God of Many Names, Apollo, Maponos, Mabon ap Modron, I call to you. Let your sun-dappled rays warm my form, filling my heart with fire, and bringing life to my pen, as I weave words in your praise.
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O’ Creiddlyad, Flower Maiden, you show me love is far more than just one. Sharing it, between Gwyn and Gwythir, showing me my love is immense. With your guidance, I embrace both my loves, holding them to my bosom, and cradling them safely.
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O’ Llwenog, Aelfwynn, the spirit who guides my steps. I call to you, flitting through the woods, fair and elfen in form, yet able to embody the fox. You guide my magic, help me wave my wand, and connect to the earth, to Annwn, to Aelfhome. You guide me through my path, delving into the
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O’ Annwfn, the watery Otherworld, I am led to you, by hunting dogs and horns, led towards your watery depths. I step into your entrance, world shifting as I descend into the abyss, to come out into your sunlight. Gwyn, my Lord, leads my steps through your flowering fields, and I feel at peace.
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O’ Andraste, Winged goddess of Victory, you bring me towards success, carried on the wings of battle, facing my troubles with spear ready, and prepared to step forward into a new day. You shroud me in your wings, letting me mend from my strife, so I may face a new day, and carry on, spear
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O’ Morfran, your wings shade my heart, Sea Crow, guiding my shattered memories over the wind, letting them sail onward, to the recesses of my mind. You cup my fractured heart in your gnarled hands, and coax another beat. Beat, beat, beat.
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O’ Maponos, Great Son, Great Sun, Son of Matrona, mother to all, you strum your harp, and I sit at your knee, listening, embracing, feeling the warmth of your wisdom flowing into my heart.
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O’ Lord of Annwn, your hounds bay in my heart, leading my soul towards a brighter day. Your strength inspires me, and your wisdom makes me wise. For it you who I write my prayers to, who embraced my broken heart, and helped piece it back together, like fine china restored. O’ Gwyn ap Nudd,
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Strings plucked, gentle chords played, O’ Maponos, son of Matrona, you pluck at the strings of my soul, shaping me into my future self. Guiding me past those who have left this world, and teaching me to listen to their songs. You are in my heart, o’ Great Harpist, and your song serenades me, filling
Little Rabbit's Glen 