Longest Night

The sun meets his end in a pastel swirl and a shimmer.
 

Long violet shadows on white velvet
Brittle and barren fingers pull the weakened orb
Down
Down into a calm, silent fist
In a whisper This: Solstice.
 

All the world is still on the longest night.
Silence in the moonlit grove, 
But for the knowing crunch of snow
And odd shadows.
We sleep,
We dream,
We are.
 

Constellations in the tyrian blanket of sky;
Jewels in the dark,
The spark
To a million candles
 Of the yellow flame at dawn.

 

ARWEN LEIGH knew she was on a different spiritual page in Sunday school, where she was disturbed by the morbid fascination over the grisly death of a guy who looked unsettlingly like John Lennon a la Abbey Road. Arwen values sincerity, fairness, honesty, and joy. She is a Pagan kitchen/hedge witch.

Support your path Witches&Pagans #20 - The Animal Issue


 

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