welsh paganism
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O’ Mighty Gods Great of the Land You lead me to and fro. On white mare I ride, over giant’s back I glide, to lands new and fair. O’ Gods of Cymru, I hail thy names, and wish you well ahead. For nothing but the deepest dark would keep me from your stead.
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I run, I chase, I climb the tallest of mountains, I ford the heaviest of streams. Still, that goal, that hope for a brighter day, seems ever further. As I struggle in my strife, my mind reaches to you, and I call out, “Hope, for the fool you love most, won’t you stop?” And as
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I soar, on magpie’s wings above rocky cliffs and crashing waves, to the cave you dwell. In my heart, I am led to you, Afagddu, Very Black, a name forced upon you. I know your true name, Morfran, Sea Raven. And on sea-salted wings, I soar to you.
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Your breath ghosts across my lips, like the breeze of the sea, rough, yet comforting, chilling, and grounding. Black wings embrace me, a comorrant feather upon my breast, to guide me home, to your nest of outcasts.
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All it takes, is a simple word, a request to slow, and you bring your horse to a canter. I climb astride, firm in my faith that I am safe with the Great Queen, and together, we tred the line, between this world and Annwfn.
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O’ Gwyn, Great God of the Tylwyth Teg, You guide me through these cold times, embracing my soul with warmth, to ward off the cold of your kingdom. I harken forward, one snow-ladden step at a time, towards the next year.
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Morgen a Modron, dual, yet a singularity. You encompass that which is Life, tree, rock, stream, sea. You embody the breathing life of the land itself. You are what we wade, walk, wander through, and in your arms, I finally see.
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Morgen, Goddess of Annwfn, You wrap me in your embrace, duality in your nature. For you are both the born of the sea, and born of the land. You wear dual names, Morgen, for the sea, and Modron, for the land, and as I am enfolded in your dual embrace, I feel peace.
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O’ Great Goddess, Queen of Annwfn, You lead your people honest, true, veiled behind your waters, Annwfn is safe. Guarded by your Huntmaster, shepherding those to the great after. Morgen, Guide your hounds to lead a wayward friend, if it is his time to go.
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Goddess of Annwfn, you lead me through dark trees, climbing over moss and vine, tripping and righting from rocks askew. We reach the peak, and it is there, shaded by the dark, full yews that surround it, the forgotten pool. I gaze within, and see you in all your forms, shaped and changed through time,
Little Rabbit's Glen 