Waiting For Imbolq

These days belong to snow and cold. The leaden heart, the ashen skies Conspire with the dark That steals the hours daily Settles us into unquiet peace. Showing sense, Creatures burrow down into their dens Slip into their deathlike sleeps. If we could, we'd follow them, Down into our inner deeps To dream away the darkness 'Til the first new leaf awakens, unfolding To greet the first green day again. But this is not our way, So we walk, half conscious, Treading lightly as we can; Our Mother resting now, This is the time to wait The time to watch over her, To stand sentinel beside her Consort, That wildeyed one who fills the shadows, Burns in blackness between the stars That shine like ice in silent, absolute Command. When the Christians hold their Candlemas We'll light our tapers too. Within ourselves and across the lands The light will spread As the neverending game of Life and Death, Of Love and Loss, Is taken up again. The Wheel rolls on, My Brethren, my Loves - Even in the silent dark. Whisper to one another the words you'll wish you'd said, later One to another through the sleeping silence 'Til Imbolq comes, my Brethren, 'Til Imbolq comes, my Loves.