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leeds buddhist centre
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| altus - newsletter [march 2001 edition] |
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A Pagan Song of Midwinter by Paul Millen
When night is long And day is
dark This is the realm of the Bardo; Between waking and sleeping When
wrathful dieties hold sway. The pendulum is at rest For an
instant But, at the point of eclipse There is a flash; A bead of light like a
glistening jewel More blinding than midsummer's power Electrifying the roots
of the earth. Death becomes liberation The circle becomes the
spiral And the rhythm of life flows Towards the deep blue dawn in the
East. This is the time to perform ritual Sprinkle water to make
rain Light fire to make sunshine. Let the garland makers and
potters Practise their craft. Come, Dance a masquerade to the tree
spirits; Sing songs of calling to the Wild Man in the forest Prepare his path to
the village. Play music to awaken the sleeping kings From their slumber
beneath the earth. With chanting, summon the Green Man From the church
portal, Abundance flowing from his mouth. Come, Weave
magic, So the snakes may return to Christian lands Dance the dance of the
Little Leaf Man, So the low sun may climb the sky And our earthly energies
May bring the greening of the land.
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