Beneath the plodding of my weary feet My path seems to forevermore extend Unceasingly, no respite or retreat, Without beginning nor with hope of end. The possibility I might complete This journey seems far too much to pretend For one who can’t imagine what he’ll meet Around the very next upcoming bend. Yet even if I stop, or turn aside There’s no foretelling what might come my way: All that’s my own, within a world so wide, Is whether I will choose to go or stay. I place one foot before the other, free To shape the course of my own destiny.
Let us honor Athene this day Let us sing to the grey-eyed Goddess: Wise and cunning savior, Guide for those who call to you, Ever near to those who are dear to you And ever dear to those whom you are near.
Almighty mother of the Erotes Whose arrows excite and impel Whose persuasion none can resist Ineluctable charms draw ever upward Recalling soul to her source Setting a divine spark within Enkindling there an all-consuming flame.
Yet sometimes, softly, in silence, You whisper to me, “Rest.” And this, too, is love.
Over the weekend, one of my friends mentioned that she’s interested in the creative work of writing poetry, and asked me for a few guidelines, that could help get her going. I’m sharing some of my thoughts here, in hopes that they might be useful to others, too.
The gifts of true friends: Sharing both joy and burdens, Making light heavy loads, with Hands, heart, speech, shared silence. To see, to be seen In a clear, polished mirror – Not as we might seem, But truly, in the depths. Rest, comfort, safe and secure, Side by side, in peace.
In the darkness, twin candles
burn brightly at your shrine,
illumine you Nine Holy Muses,
who illumine me in turn.
You breathe in the incense –
breathe into me, I pray;
inspire me by your presence.
You for whom honeyed tapers
burn down – lay upon me
gifts from your sacred beehives.