The revelers sway, stomp, pound their fists against naked chests
While being caressed by the loving finger’s of the night’s flame
Sincere, gleaming eyes transfixed
They shout, laugh, cry and confess.
Emotions being intensified
With mead and endorphins.
This spectacle of individuals
Undulates into a single mass
A living, breathing, transcended heart.
But what is to be done with the reveler
Who falls in love with the flame,
And is no longer satisfied dancing the soul’s jubilee
At festival time under the influence of mother moon’s
Intoxicating pull.
Craving the heavy heat of immolation and the out of body
Exultation,
They seek the circle almost every night and are always restless.
Let us allow them to be priests of the flame.
So that love can be nurtured and understood.
So that they may pass that knowledge on to others.
No comments:
Post a Comment