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leeds buddhist centre
altus - newsletter [march 2001 edition]
Ripples
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A Pagan Song of Midwinter by Paul Millen

tree
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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