celtic paganism
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O’ Maponos, I strum my lyre for you, weaving words of wisdom, into gentle song. Your light shines upon my brow, filling my heart with hope, and you turn your flame against foes, shielding me from the pain of others.
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Under the hills, in the depths of sea, mirrored in our world, but whimsical and changed. Annfwn, I stare into your depths, touching the pools of your forests, and feel the spirit of the Otherworld fill me. Your King leads my hunt, across grassy moors and thick forests, hunting dogs baying their song. It is
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O’ Darkest Black, Morfran, close to my heart. I am safe in your shade, standing beneath your abnormal beauty like a flower beneath a tree. Beauty exudes from both our forms, but in a way that the world rejects. We are not Normal, Not Right, but beauty lies in our bones. Through embracing you, I
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O’ Great Queen of the Seasons, You wrap me in your arms, warm, safe, secure in the cycle of the seasons. As heat comes, your love shifts, teaching me that love can be shared, given to many, and take many forms. I plant the seeds of my future, keeping you close to my heart.
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O’ Summer Queen, lead me through your shining light, let your blossoms grow in my bosom, filling my heart with hope. Your gentle touch, your guiding voice, they lead me through meadows, fresh with blossoming bluebells, and assorted herbs. You enrich the earth when your love falls, a sacrifice for rebirth of the realm. To
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You fall, scorched by the Son, taken from us for now. I mourn, head laid low in sorrows, though hope stills in my heart, for I know you will return, hand in hand with your beloved, to come another day. The cycle swings in a circle, summer to winter, departure to return, and back again.
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I follow the hounds, red-eared, teeth bared. I bound through the brush, leaping like stag, and follow the call of your hunting horn. O’ Gwyn ap Nudd, Leader of the Wild Hunt, I dance through the trees with you, comforting the souls that come to your care, knowing when my time comes, I will journey
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O’ Maponos, Son of Many Names, Lord of Hounds, Bringer of the Sun, I hail to thee, raising my arms towards your light, for you shine upon with me ferocity, and fill my heart with hope. Bright and brilliant, hounds leading the hunt to a better tomorrow. You wrap me with warmth, and comfort my
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Given to you at birth, bestowed in later life, names are divine, identifying, yet your name, Morfran, was taken from you. Morfran snatched, replaced by Afagddu. What is in a name? Does this new title define you? Or do you reach towards the past, groping for Morfran again? I see you as Morfran, Sea Raven,
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Hunched, mottled, Dark yet pale, Ashen skin, Bright blue eyes, Afagddu, I whisper, reaching out to graze my hand along one mottled cheek, You rise as a comorant, darkened, yet filled with a beauty your mother fails to see. Yearning for your well-being, she brews inevitable poisons, yet as I stand, I see you. Perfect
Little Rabbit's Glen 