The weather turns warmer, rushing ever towards its Mother
\nThe gentle stream of late summer is now a torrent, filled and fulfilling; turning, twisting the spring moves on in
\nthe never ending Dance of Life<\/P>
\n
Rushing toward the Summer’s embrace, My soul, too, is a torrent
\nOf feelings, awakenings, expectations and desires reaching with growing strength towards the warmth of the sun at its zenith
\nMy body wants to move and sway, but my mind is not sure it wants to DANCE<\/P>
\n
Young abound in cities and woodlands;
\nMeadows and marshes are filled with life
\nOn a warm night, under the trees, couples
\nGaze at the stars and, if they are lucky,
\nHear the celestial music of the spheres<\/P>
\n
In hollows and hidden places, the faeries emerge from their hiding to dance in the light of the summer moon
\nOld as time and young forever, these spirits
\nof freedom know the steps to the Dance of Life<\/P>
\n
The young King frolics in the forest, growing in strength and wisdom, for this is truly his time<\/P>
\n
Midsummer, its enchantment reaches for our souls.
\nWill we as a race again hear its call?
\nOr will we, as we have for too many years, drown out its message with selfish, disenchanting distractions encroaching ourselves evermore into the realm of enchantment in a vain attempt to analyze, categorize, and claim it as our own.<\/P>
\n
Foolish, fooling race that we are
\nWe stand at the pinnacle of technological advancements
\nReady to step off the edge onto new heights
\nBut our misunderstandings of our own magical selves
\nAre destined to throw us down unless we can reclaim
\nThat enchantment to which we were born and have a birthright
\nBut which the World Culture has taught us was invalid.<\/P>
\n
Look to the past, Oh Children of the Garden
\nLook to the cultures that still honor the senses and earth
\nLook to the few among us who have learned to live
\nA truly Enchanted and magic-filled life.<\/P>
\n
Be not dismayed by my word of "magic", for it is not in the
\nWorldly sense of tricks and illusions that I use it
\nBut, instead, I use it as I would "mystery" and "wonder".
\nAll the world is magic to a child
\nAnd as a child must we again become. All of us.
\nIf we are, once more, and at last, going to regain a
\nSense of the enchantment this earth, this life has to offer
\nAnd, in doing so, truly be able to dance again
\nThe Midsummer Dance of Life.<\/P>
\n
***<\/P>
\n
author bio:<\/P>
\n
Mariposa is a UU Pagan of 8 years duration. She spends much of her time reading, playing Celitc harp, and writing poetry. She calls her method of writing "Muse-inspired", as she writes the poem complete and whole at one sitting with, usually, only very minor changes. Also, if she gets "inspired" she must right down the poem at once or she "loses it". Mariposa currently holds the Office of Spirit for the Church of the Sacred Circle in Salt Lake City, and is also clergyperson of that pagan church. She hopes to get training to become a volunteer for the "No One Dies Alone" hospice program that sits with dying patients when family and friends are not available.<\/P><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The weather turns warmer, rushing ever towards its Mother The gentle stream of late summer is now a torrent, filled and fulfilling; turning, twisting the spring moves on in the never ending Dance of Life Rushing toward the Summer’s embrace, My soul, too, is a torrent Of feelings, awakenings, expectations and desires reaching with growing strength towards the warmth of the sun at its zenith My body wants to move and sway, but my mind is not sure it wants to DANCE Young abound in cities and woodlands; Meadows and marshes are filled with life On a warm night, under the trees, couples Gaze at the stars and, if they are lucky, Hear the celestial music of the spheres In hollows and hidden places, the faeries emerge from their hiding to dance in the light of the summer moon Old as time and young forever, these spirits of freedom know the steps to the Dance of Life The young King frolics in the forest, growing in strength and wisdom, for this is truly his time Midsummer, its enchantment reaches for our souls. Will we as a race again hear its call? Or will we, as we have for too many years, drown out its message with selfish, disenchanting distractions encroaching ourselves evermore into the realm of enchantment in a vain attempt to analyze, categorize, and claim it as our own. Foolish, fooling race that we are We stand at the pinnacle of technological advancements Ready to step off the edge onto new heights But our misunderstandings of our own magical selves Are destined to throw us down unless we can reclaim That enchantment to which we were born and have a birthright But which the World Culture has taught us was invalid. Look to the past, Oh Children of the Garden Look to the cultures that still honor the senses and earth Look to the few among us who have learned to live A truly Enchanted and magic-filled life. Be not dismayed by my word of "magic", for it is not in the Worldly sense of tricks and illusions that I use it But, instead, I use it as I would "mystery" and "wonder". All the world is magic to a child And as a child must we again become. All of us. If we are, once more, and at last, going to regain a Sense of the enchantment this earth, this life has to offer And, in doing so, truly be able to dance again The Midsummer Dance of Life. *** author bio: Mariposa is a UU Pagan of 8 years duration. She spends much of her time reading, playing Celitc harp, and writing poetry. She calls her method of writing "Muse-inspired", as she writes the poem complete and whole at one sitting with, usually, only very minor changes. Also, if she gets "inspired" she must right down the poem at once or she "loses it". Mariposa currently holds the Office of Spirit for the Church of the Sacred Circle in Salt Lake City, and is also clergyperson of that pagan church. She hopes to get training to become a volunteer for the "No One Dies Alone" hospice program that sits with dying patients when family and friends are not available.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"iawp_total_views":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-672","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/paganpages.org\/emagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/672","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/paganpages.org\/emagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/paganpages.org\/emagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/paganpages.org\/emagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/paganpages.org\/emagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=672"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/paganpages.org\/emagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/672\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":20004,"href":"https:\/\/paganpages.org\/emagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/672\/revisions\/20004"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/paganpages.org\/emagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=672"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/paganpages.org\/emagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=672"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/paganpages.org\/emagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=672"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}