Monday, 28 February 2011

Of Slaying Dragons and flying Elfshot.

The bright sun in the morning sky gives subtle hints of the coming spring as I rise from the restful repose of the night. Birdsong adorns the air as the radiant star of our home seems to make the catkins dance in a golden hue upon the hazel trees of our country home.
Lucifer's warmth brings great strength and heals the soul from the trials and tribulations of the mundane world, stealing brief moments throughout the working day to recharge beneath his brilliance, to gather the spirit together, to make strong that which others would attempt to tear apart by their cruel ignorance, and careless actions.

Life is good in the land of the Cunning man, there is much to be thankful for and many to be thankful to, the fruits of labours past still sweet upon the tongue and the seedlings of the future reach evermore toward the light.

Dragons now are easily slain, those greater plans that conspire against us all in our everyday lives, a large target is easy to hit and there is much truth in the old saying "the harder they come, the harder they fall",and fall they do, with ease together with a greater resolve and not a little cunning.
Yet elf shot does come in many forms and from many places, forcing small wounds upon the individual that at first go unnoticed, if ignored, these may become the fatal cuts and pustulating sores that will indeed still bring us down, those straws that are one by one and once again placed upon the camels back, until the beast is slain.
Action due to circumstance or prior knowledge of certain outcome may be an impossible task and therefor other methods must be brought into play, the bitter curse is not to be employed, repercussions are too severe and the distractions that will ensue only serve to make us wander from a path that is often hard to follow as it is..

Love is a divine gift in all its forms, emotional, physical or platonic, this is the tool to employ in these awkward times.
We need to draw in that feeling, to grasp, not in desperation but to seek out the flow of the wyrd, for the healing that this power can bring, as a dear friend said to me "to eat it as if you were the hungry man at the feast".
The love that you feel within the solar plexus of your body, it emits this perfect emotion yet it gathers it also, as those ignorant asses stretch your being to its very limit it is this divine love that can pull it back to the confines of your earthy form, gathering, stitching together the torn pieces and making you strong once again, no longer stretched to breaking point but like steel, forged anew, each time is like a rebirth, a fresh start and we become more formidable than before, somewhere within the arms of Hecate, safe and untouchable, a bright star that shines between the horns of the master.

These are the true gifts that we are given, us would be priests of the faith, this is the true magic and thankful this one has become for it's influence.

The sun has now set on this beautiful day, there were no dragons to be slain and the rats who gnaw at the bonds of my life are no longer able to bite through forged cables that bind me to the world, I shall me mindful of their presence as I know that soon they will come again, but next time they may have bolt croppers and action may yet be necessary, for now the Blackthorn stays under wraps, as this one is safely wrapped up himself within that divine blanket of virtue and love.

Flags, Flax and Fodder.. Tony

1 comment:

  1. What an amazing post.
    I am currently slaying dragons.
    I looked for an image for my blog and came up with the fist which led me here.
    What a pleasure.