(A Dream Journey; Third Night of Yew Month;[1] Samhain)
Tonight, I dreamed I went witching through the woods on my broom …
O to go Naked[2] amongst the trees,
Stepping from root to root_
Slipping on the leaf-litter and moss—
Wet down by rain and fog. 1
The feel of the breeze upon my skin
Raptures me into flight!
Up to the canopy I go—
beyond the Green_
Into the Sapphire World of Night! 2
There I ride my broom and go flying
Hair blown back in the wind—
Until I come to the Old Forest;
Witch-invited, I descend to land. 3
O to go sky-clad into that Wood,
Awake—with besom-staff in hand—
To wander where the Old Ones still lead
In the dense and dusky green! 4
Upon my broom I go with wise thoughts,
Wilding into fire—
Barely missing brambles and grape vines;
_I am too fast, too close the ground! 5
Yet on I ride in Full Lunatic Light,
Wisening and mused—
Scouting out nemetons and cromlechs
Where the Night’s Powers reside! 6
Zooming down one path, then another,
Swerving right, then left—
I descend into a Mystic Vale
of Flowers and sequestered truths! 7
Naked in the Night of witching-dreams,
I come to Faery Cross┼Roads
and stop—having found the hidden door
_beyond which She waits! 8
Leaving my broom at the stone entrance,
I enter, all stripped down—
Enveloped in Her haunting Presence;
The Lady Hecate! 9
Lady of Crossroads, Magick & Power,
Dwelling in the Earth—
She welcomes me to her Dark Abode,
Spelling ‘Hope’ with Her Living Fire. 10
Her hearth is blazing and in it boils
An elixir true—
Meant to be drunk in a Full Moon’s Light
_beyond Her Cavern Home. 11
She hands me a chalice of the brew,
Which I know is true—
And sends me out into the Wild Night;
_there to be transfigured! 12
Remounting my broom, I drink it down,
Feeling the rapture!
Then up I fly, Monty to the Night,
fully grooved and brooming!!! 13
I dream-in-song that takes me homing
to where Old Owl speaks—
and from his tree I descend to ground;
exhilarated and dewy! 14
_O to go Naked amongst the trees,
stepping from root to root_
slipping on the leaf-litter and moss—
wet down by rain and fog! 15
So mote it be!
Stepping from root to root_
Slipping on the leaf-litter and moss—
Wet down by rain and fog. 1
The feel of the breeze upon my skin
Raptures me into flight!
Up to the canopy I go—
beyond the Green_
Into the Sapphire World of Night! 2
There I ride my broom and go flying
Hair blown back in the wind—
Until I come to the Old Forest;
Witch-invited, I descend to land. 3
O to go sky-clad into that Wood,
Awake—with besom-staff in hand—
To wander where the Old Ones still lead
In the dense and dusky green! 4
Upon my broom I go with wise thoughts,
Wilding into fire—
Barely missing brambles and grape vines;
_I am too fast, too close the ground! 5
Yet on I ride in Full Lunatic Light,
Wisening and mused—
Scouting out nemetons and cromlechs
Where the Night’s Powers reside! 6
Zooming down one path, then another,
Swerving right, then left—
I descend into a Mystic Vale
of Flowers and sequestered truths! 7
Naked in the Night of witching-dreams,
I come to Faery Cross┼Roads
and stop—having found the hidden door
_beyond which She waits! 8
Leaving my broom at the stone entrance,
I enter, all stripped down—
Enveloped in Her haunting Presence;
The Lady Hecate! 9
Lady of Crossroads, Magick & Power,
Dwelling in the Earth—
She welcomes me to her Dark Abode,
Spelling ‘Hope’ with Her Living Fire. 10
Her hearth is blazing and in it boils
An elixir true—
Meant to be drunk in a Full Moon’s Light
_beyond Her Cavern Home. 11
She hands me a chalice of the brew,
Which I know is true—
And sends me out into the Wild Night;
_there to be transfigured! 12
Remounting my broom, I drink it down,
Feeling the rapture!
Then up I fly, Monty to the Night,
fully grooved and brooming!!! 13
I dream-in-song that takes me homing
to where Old Owl speaks—
and from his tree I descend to ground;
exhilarated and dewy! 14
_O to go Naked amongst the trees,
stepping from root to root_
slipping on the leaf-litter and moss—
wet down by rain and fog! 15
So mote it be!
- Montague Whitsel
[1] Yew Month – Ioho – the 13th month in Celtic mysticism; the last three days of October leading up to Samhain; which was ‘New Year’s Eve’ in the ancient Celtic world.
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