On this night

I wrote these as the overviews to a year's worth of rituals that I priestessed. I decided to put them all together as a story/poem to honor the wheel of the year.

On this night, the longest night of the wheel that is our year, we celebrate death and rebirth. The Holly King once again, gives way to the Oak King. The Sun dies and is reborn. The Great Mother stirs after her long slumber, and we celebrate the gifts of the earth with gifts of our own.

On this night, snow still covers the ground. Winter still covers the earth, seemingly unchallenged. But underneath the ice and frost, life has begun anew. The sun has struck its match upon the ground. The Horned One, king of the animals and unseen wild places has been reborn. This is the feast of the new flame, the spark that will catch upon the land and spur it to grow.

On this night, we welcome Spring's return. The young sun has come of age. The frozen waters break free and begin to flow. It is the time of balance. The night equals the day, the yin and yang flow into one another and dance as one. The scales are tipped evenly, neither having advantage. The symmetry between dark and light is never more pronounced. Life is stirring even as death recedes. New vibrant energy beats within us as it beats within all living things.

On this night, we celebrate the lush fertility of spring in its glory. The buds have bloomed. Their ripe luscious fruit has traveled across the countryside and impregnated the soil with its seed. The god impregnates the land that is goddess. The lord of all that is wild releases his sexual energy and joins it with the sexual energy of the earth that is the goddess to ensure the fertility and happiness of us all. The young animals frolic and play. Tonight, we feast the feast of the flame, of passion and of love.

On this night, we celebrate the sun's highest moment. The veil between worlds is thin and wee folk frolic and run wild. Passion has reached its peak. But as the wheel turns, so, at its most glorious moment, the sun must yield to the ni ght. We are at the height of the energy first felt at Ostara. Longer days have rejuvenated us as the sun has grown in strength. The God has come of age. He is wedded to the Goddess as her mate and equal. Together they love wildly among the flourishing summer flowers kissed by summer breezes. But, the beginning of summer heralds the coming of fall and winter. Even at its zenith, passion dissolves in the face of a love so complete.

On this night, we feast on first fruit. The earth, the mother has nourished her children as the lynx has tended her kits. The fallen fruit has ripened and begins its return journey to the earth. The sun grows old and even as it still blinds us with its glory, it has become the glory of the fading ember. The wheel turns; the year is passing. The grain, the harvest turns ever on toward wisdom gained in the golden months.

On this night, we balance the scales of justice. The scales are once again tipped evenly. The leaves that were green and flourishing have been caressed by the waning rays of the sun and burnished by the fiery colors of autumn. The day equals the night. But as in Tai Chi, after balance there must be the absence of balance and the year takes another step toward dark away from light. As darkness descends, wisdom grows and we enter the crone time.

On this night, when the veil between the worlds is thin, we gather to celebrate Hecate, the Goddess of the underworld, the crone and her gifts. Hecate, the keeper of the mysteries of the deep self. Welcome to the crones, the wise ones, to the spirits who wander the earth this night. Now is the dead time of the year, where seeds, spirits, and energies await rebirth.

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