Sentinels on the Shore

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Barmouth in the county of Gwynedd, North-West Wales was our destination yesterday. The day was relatively dry and bright, a surprise but not unwelcome. The resulting photographs captured the solitude of numerous sentinels lining the beach, and I thought what homage could be paid to these lonely guardians of the shore?

They stand year after year, pushing back the relentless power of the waters of birth and death. For that is the nature of the Elemental power of Water against the Elemental power of Earth. Seashores are places infused with strong emotions, they stir the chalice within, fish out aspects of our lives and offer them as sacred repasts.

These groynes, weathered corpses almost, endeavour to hold back a mighty power, but their valiant efforts cannot stop the inevitable march of life, change and growth.  They should at least be accorded respect and their efforts acknowledged.

Here then is my non-poem as an offering to their spirits:

Incense do I offer you faithful Sentinels, Guardians of shores ancient,

Resilient, even to the end but your salt weathered bodies shall neither wither,

Nor crumble into dust without mourning, without  words of remembrance, and without words of thanks.

We wait on the shore, offer flowers and wine to the departed, sing songs of times past, 

Of heroic acts undertaken, of life lived long and times ephemeral.

Mor, Great goddess of Sun and Sea, hear their cries, for guidance through the dark paths of death beyond life.

Embrace each spirit, take them into your heart, bury deep with the depths,

And usher in a sleep of  waiting, and rebirth certain.

May we then part in peace and love.

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Icarus Reborn

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Image: Pixabay

Dying star, phoenix, what shall we call you? What will you respond to? You who dared to reach the unknowable. For the gods are not kind to those who seek to breach the boundaries placed on high. Humanity should know their place in this world, submit to rule and respect divine law. They are not our words but those of the lawgivers. How fare you Daedalus, witness to such a horror? The young know not what it is to listen to the voice of reason and wisdom. Yet, we feel your pain and sorrow. As such we shall grant regeneration and resurrection for the dying star.

How your face mirrors fear and shock! Dying star you have felt the breath of Helios and succumbed to a fate not wished willingly on anyone. Fire consumes and relents not, charring your wings of feather and paper.  The divinity within slumbers still, not fully awakened, gnosis not yet within grasp. Do not relinquish hope little god. The heavens wait for your ascent, but not before the soul is ready to grasp the wisdom that is awaits you within the wine dark sea.

Death is but the final gateway to Elysium, that much we can promise little god.

See how his eyes close now, finally without fear. He knows what is to come, to be enveloped in the arms of the great sea, mysterious, being both beginning and ending. The sky thunders so, heralding a mystery yet to unfold. Little god, little god, breathe, breathe, the release comes soon. He listens and then surrenders to a greater power. We cut the thread that holds life to fate. We weave the thread that holds life to its fate. It is done and it is beauteous beyond compare. See how his divinity flowers, flows through veins with  life blood. Breath returns, life renews, resurrection is at hand.

Knowing is at hand, glory unfolds before him like a veil of stars adorning the heavens. Ascend into life and the heavens winged one. For both heaven and earth shall rejoice at your emergence into life renewed.

The wine dark sea holds its breath and then offers up its prize. Upon gleaming wings of white, gold and ivory does the little god rise. Great Helios greets his child and adorns the skies with gold in celebration. We fade back into the realm between worlds, waiting.