Mystery of silver grey violet gold… the final waning of the year. Dusktide. The hour of betwixt-and-between. The final darkness of Samhain will soon fall, but first the Divine Twins that are the Powers of Darkness and Light savor a moment of mutual clasping and intertwining. The Egg of Creation is balanced at a single point. The apples are fragrant in the orchards of Avalon. The rotting fruit that has fallen has already begun to yield into the inevitable embrace of compost, releasing dark unknown seeds into the living Earth. She will endure while what has budded and flourished and triumphed, now drowsing, drooping, fading, falls finally into slumber.
Old gods are standing near
To watch the turning of the year;
Far from the forest’s gloom
Faeries pipe their tune.
Strong staves of rowan-tree
Shall keep the measure merrily;
Ash-branch and sprig-of-broom
Flash beneath the moon..
Rise up and join the ring
Round the harvest-tide blaze;
Praise now the Waning King
In the last of his days. …
Round, round, upon the ground
Where Jack O’Green is autumn-bound,
Whirl, whirl the Ivy Girl,
Where the harvest was springing.
Bright, bright the firelight
When day is turning into night;
Swirl, swirl, the smoke doth curl,
While the dancers are singing.
Photo by permission of artist and visionary Wolf Luman: http://wolf-luman.squarespace.com/