Creating Circles and Ceremonies: Rituals for All ... - reading...

Book I: T he Magick Circle 65
Whose name is never known;
Why do you call and beckon me
With every changing tone?
Where do you lead, O tempting One?
Your smile conceals a truth
And ageless wisdom hides beneath
Your fair veneer of youth.
I follow, then for in my soul
The fire has been fanned
And so I meet your trusting gaze
And grasp your outstretched hand.
And I am free, my bonds are shed,
Like dewdrops in the morn.
O God of Joy! O God of Life!
Through you I am reborn!
—Thera
56. In Your Eyes
I’m the beat of your heart
In the guise that you wear.
I’m the spark in your eye
For the love that you dare!
I live deep in your breath;
Feel me move, feel me rise,
In your heart, in your soul, in your eyes.
I am Lord, I am Light,
Shining bright on the Earth!
I am Love, and your soul
I will guide to rebirth.
I am strength to be free
From all fear if you’re wise
In your heart, in your soul, in your eyes.
I am Death, I touch all,
I will come as I must,
Bringing comfort and rest,
For your souls are my trust.
And reunion, my gift
Beyond death is the prize,
For your heart, for your soul, for your eyes.
I will pulse in your blood,
I will ring from your core,
When the Lady, my Love,
Gives you flesh once more!
You will meet and remember
The loves of your lives;
For your heart and your soul are my eyes.
I am Lord, I am Love,
I’m the beat of your heart!
I am Lord, I am Life,
I’m the seed of your start.
I am Lord, hear me laugh,
Feel me move, feel me rise
In your heart, in your soul, in your eyes.
In your heart, in your soul, in your eyes.
—Gwendolyn L. Zak
2. God Invocations
-T he Horned One
57. Hymn to Pan
Thrill with lissome lust of the light
Oh man! My man!
Come careering out of the night
Of Pan, Io Pan!
Io Pan! Io Pan! Come over the sea
From Sicily and from Arcady!
Roaming as Bacchus with fauns and pards
And nymphs and satyrs for thy guards,
On a milk white ass, come over the sea
To me, to me!
Come with Apollo in bridal dress
(Shepherdess and pythoness)
Come with Artemis, silken shod,
And wash thy white thigh, beautiful God,
In the moon of the woods,
On the marble mount
The dimpled down of the amber fount!
Dip the purple of passionate prayer
In the crimson shrine, the scarlet snare,
The soul that startles in eyes of blue
To watch thy wantonness weeping through
The tangled grove, the gnarled bole
Of the living tree that is spirit and soul
And body and brain—come over the sea,
(Io Pan! Io Pan!)
Devil or god, to me, to me,
My man! My man!
Come with trumpets sounding shrill
Over the hill!
Come with drums low muttering
From the Spring!
Come with flute and come with pipe!
Am I not ripe?
I, who wait and writhe and wrestle
With air that hath no boughs to nestle
My body, wary of empty clasp,