Cernunnos · devotional poetry


Autumn rushes nearer, each
breath of wind cooler than the last.
Is that His voice, whispering in the breeze?
Is that His call, my Beloved, my Lord?
Is that –


Birds chase each other overhead,
dancing against the clouded sky.
Is that His face, formed of
formless grey? Is He –


Hours may pass like minutes,
or minutes like hours.
Time may lose its meaning
as I gaze at His face, mind racing.
Can You hear me? Are You there?
Do You –

Cease your chatter, quiet your mind.
You do not need to be quick –
I will teach you to be still.
Listen, and you will learn.

It feels a lot like this.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s