The Coming Of The Dark

Made by my dearest friend Jess, over at https://jessicaannebreisnes.wordpress.com/

There are many kinds of darkness.
Some must be respected, avoided, acknowledged. Others are meant to heal us. Help us rest. Hibernate. Grow on the inside.

All seeds start in Darkness. Even ours.
We strive to be the creatures of light while being born of Darkness and Blood. We need not be ashamed of it. It is simply where we came from. Not who we are.

As the skies darken we must let go. Let go of all the things you don’t need anymore. Just like the leafy trees. Let go that which cannot be renewed. Pull your resources inward to survive The Long Dark. The Death of who we were. The germination of who we are. Dreams of who we will be.

It is also a time of Ghosts. Old and new ones. Ghosts you didn’t realize were following you. That you didn’t realize you cared so much about. Some you are desperate to be rid of, others you cling to.

My photo, my art.

This is the time of year I feel most myself. Most in tune with who and what I am. I wonder if Persephone has similar feelings? Does she relish the dark? The return of her Lovers caress? His all encompassing Darkness, and the comfort she finds there?

Hades is not my Lover but my God is similar. He is comfortable in Darkness. Was born into it. Comitted his first Tricks and Crimes in it. He travels through it. Becomes it. Bends it to his will with his masterful hands. I can feel him there the most.

Chthonic Hermes is who comes to me, his touch in the cooling winds, following in the footsteps of Death. The Aftermath of The Wild Hunt. The Wreckage. He walks among it, gathering souls to take Over.

Hail Hermes, my Beloved. Welcome Home.

Orphic Hymn 57 to Chthonian Hermes :
“To Hermes Khthonios (Chthonian, of the Underworld), Fumigation from Storax. Hermes, I call, whom fate decrees to dwell near to Kokytos, the famed stream of Haides, and in necessity’s (Ananke’s) dread path, whose bourn to none that reach it ever permits return. O Bakkheios (Bacchian) Hermes, progeny divine of Dionysos, parent of the vine, and of celestial Aphrodite, Paphian queen, dark-eyelashed Goddess, of a lovely mien: who constant wanderest through the sacred seats where Haides’ dread empress, Persephone, retreats; to wretched souls the leader of the way, when fate decrees, to regions void of day. Thine is the wand which causes sleep to fly, or lulls to slumberous rest the weary eye; for Persephone, through Tartaros dark and wide, gave thee for ever flowing souls to guide. Come, blessed power, the sacrifice attend, and grant thy mystics’ works a happy end.”

http://www.theoi.com/Olympios/Hermes.html

My photo and art.
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Hermes Shrine Box

I promised Hermes a permanent shrine once we moved. That was in May. I’ve been thinking about it a lot but was, admittedly, procrastinating.

An opportunity to provide a ritual service for Him on behalf of another presented itself. Through that service I aquired this beautiful wooden shrine box in gratitude. I am overwhelmed by this gift.

I finally felt that it was time to light it up. It was a very rough day on every possible level. My Beloved Psychopomp was very close to me today. I felt His warm hands upon my heart.

I sing the praises of my Beloved Hermes. May His name forever be spoken. May His grace touch us all.

The Final Harvest

The Final Harvest

Hail to the Dead
Who we honour at The Final Harvest
That which is remembered never truly dies.

Hail to the Beloved Dead
Those we kept close during life
Those who filled our hearts with love.

Hail to the Lost Dead
Those we never knew
Those we will never know due to the distance of Time and Place.

Hail to the Forgotten Dead
Those who have been lost and forgotten
Those whose names we do not know due to treachery and loss.

Hail to the Glorious Dead
Those who fell in combat
Those who survived and lived with the scars to pass later.

Hail to the Innocent Dead
Lost children and babes
Those who did not take a breath, or very few.

Hail to all those who have gone before us
The Veil is all but gone this night
We hear you and remember you.

-Angela Kurkiewicz, Samhain 2016

The Sharp Knife of a Short Life…

Lo do I see my Beloved on this anniversary of her passing.
I feel her peace and contentment and know that she is at rest.
My heart still aches but it isn’t quite as sharp.
May we meet in the Hereafter and say and do all those things we meant to.

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“If I Die Young”

If I die young, bury me in satin
Lay me down on a bed of roses
Sink me in a river at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song

Uh oh, uh oh

Lord make me a rainbow, I’ll shine down on my mother
She’ll know I’m safe with you when she stands under my colors, oh,
And life ain’t always what you think it ought to be, no
Ain’t even grey, but she buries her baby

The sharp knife of a short life, oh well
I’ve had just enough time

If I die young, bury me in satin
Lay me down on a bed of roses
Sink me in the river at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song

The sharp knife of a short life, oh well
I’ve had just enough time

And I’ll be wearing white, when I come into your kingdom
I’m as green as the ring on my little cold finger,
I’ve never known the lovin’ of a man
But it sure felt nice when he was holdin’ my hand,
There’s a boy here in town, says he’ll love me forever,
Who would have thought forever could be severed by…

…the sharp knife of a short life, oh well?
I’ve had just enough time

So put on your best, boys, and I’ll wear my pearls
What I never did is done

A penny for my thoughts, oh, no, I’ll sell ’em for a dollar
They’re worth so much more after I’m a goner
And maybe then you’ll hear the words I been singin’
Funny when you’re dead how people start listenin’

If I die young, bury me in satin
Lay me down on a bed of roses
Sink me in the river at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song

Uh oh (uh, oh)
The ballad of a dove (uh, oh)
Go with peace and love
Gather up your tears, keep ’em in your pocket
Save ’em for a time when you’re really gonna need ’em, oh

The sharp knife of a short life, oh well
I’ve had just enough time

So put on your best, boys, and I’ll wear my pearls.