As I enter the sacred Temple of Winter
I add the single candle that I carry
to the hundreds of candles about me that flicker…
casting the golden memories of warmer days
on the stone walls about me.
And like the sleeping creatures of the darkly dripping forest,
I am still.
My fast-beating heart slows,
to keep pace with the Earth.
I hear the dreaming silence,
where once I heard the lark sing.
I feel about me the sorrow of green leaves fallen in autumn.
And the bitterness of a hard winter come,
before summer was through.
Even now, deep in the pit of my belly,
I feel this dark seed stirring.
Slow… like the Earth at night.
Stirring within me the dream of another spring,
And the bright promise of another summer.
Even though I long for the sight and the heady fragrance
of flowers born again…
I will not rush to the leafy embrace of greening fields.
I will not dance naked like a child into the warming sun.
I will not sing from my heart the honey-sweet songs of summer.
Not yet… Not yet.
Not before I hear within my own heart the voice of the Divine Darkness,
that whispers within.
Not before I have learned the bittersweet lessons
that only winter can teach.
And so I sit, quietly in this moonsoft silence.
A Daughter to The Divine Light.
A handmaiden to this season of dreaming.
Listening to the sighing songs of the wind.
Listening to the beating heart of winter,
which is now my breath.
Listening to the stillness that calls to me…
Written for “The Dream Oracle.” Image: “The Temple of Winter.”
A modern Pagan ritual involving a young woman and acknowledging and accepting the lessons of Winter.