PAGAN LOVE AND WILDING HEARTS

27. The Goddess Eloheim

        Storm. Miles beneath thee I shake, so small am I, and gaze through chaos. I run like water upon the earth, from droplet to river to sea. I melt and merge and roil and there is roaring in my heart. I am a man and yet a child, and I wish I were caressed against a breast and laid in love to sleep. And as I run upon the earth. I pray.

        Eternal winds, you have felt all the world’s cares and mine are not so strange to you. You have carried every cry; you have heard the whispered pleas meant for no human ears; you have born every one to the source of thunder. You remember and you sing their solace, the hymns of their suffering, the memory of their love. Soothe me Eternal Spirit and bear me up with wisdom, for I am far from home: indeed I have no home...   and I need your strength tonight. Oh Spirit, this world is wicked and you cleanse unfailing as a kneeling mother upon bloody flagstones; you have made the murky clear; your fresh breezes lick the wounds of fallen generations: you whither discord with your harmony. O Spirit. Your own blood has paid for this highway in the night and you have called it forth and you have called me forth upon it. O Spirit, bare me as an autumn seed upon your back and fly me wither thy purpose requires. Time has fled and taken my cloak of memories: I must wrap myself in winds. I have even unshod my feet to hear the speaking ancient rock. I am coming home. O life. I am coming home, O Earth. I am coming home, O Breath of Moon.

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        Running. Standing. Watching. Waiting. Running. Standing. Watching. Waiting. What willst thou learn this day, 0 man?

O fly among stars and crave a moonlit river’s running heart and smell the burgeoning fields with your passing nose.  O man... See the warm lights in those million houses? Knowest thee who eats yonder bread and drinks the wine? O man. Runnest thou with winds beneath thy feet: O runnest thou, and bear thy pains of breathing; runnest ye to catch yonder song, Her words are only beyond you—and verses waiting. And this road is not a road—it is a song: it is the song.

        And She awaits: who has flown to love. She who stands in orange waters and the setting sun. Sorrow claims Her but for Her faith and She will find you; and Her sorrow will increase, and Her faith. For the song deserves a reason, a reason true since first dawn. You have called Her forth and even now She has placed Her golden feet upon the black stones of the wide sea and turned Her face to hear gentle laughters tumult with seabirds and the coarsing breath of God. Now She waits upon an ancient tree. Now She dreams upon a velvet night. Wonder that thy prayers ascend? See their light merge in fields of stars. Wisdom guides them. Compassion receives them. O dirty pilgrim.  Thy light is clean. Behold, the humming bird watchest thee.