The stripling lad born weak at Beltane’s fire
now stands, and draws his measure proud and tall;
he takes the throne with passion and desire,
and bids the fading shadows to withdraw.
Upon this longest day, he reigns supreme,
the heat of manhood coursing through his veins,
and watches o’er the fields now lush and green,
the forests in full leaf, and grassy plains.
May love be warm, and all your dreams be bright
that find you on this new Midsummer’s night
And yet, in this, his hour, when darkness wanes,
as earth draws close in embrace with the sun,
the balance shifts in cycle yet again
and starts once more toward aphelion.
How fleeting, this brave moment of control,
when day’s bright visions chase the dreams of dark;
it fuels the flames that feed the growing whole
and then is gone, just ash where once was spark.
May all the wrongs of winter be put right
good tidings to you this Midsummer’s night
Stay now, and watch through the few darkened hours;
for in these sunlight times, the veils are weak,
and grant to bards deserving of such powers
a touch of sacred madness, so to speak.
And keep your eyes alert for those who waltz
between the shadows from the faery lands;
they seek to lure the fool, and play him false
who thinks the world can be held in his hands.
Remember that the king, too, now in court,
has but a moment’s glory, then must die.
So join with him in summer’s happy sport —
a dream of joyous play for you and I.
May we remain forever in the light
that grows its strongest at Midsummer’s night
18 JUN 2004