Eostra at the Trinity and a gift of Gaia

Trinity A corner
Of Harrow
Afternoon
We had actually found the place
So that was opportune

First impressions
Old
A private bar and a big TV
Upstairs to another bar
A private place where we

Met Mary, and some of her friends
A truly gentle space
Transformed by the faery touch
Of Mary’s sweet embrace
Her motherland of magic
A hostelry of sorts
A sanctum for survivors
Immersed in kindred thoughts

Walls of Summer red, candles and a Rook
An owl guarding the cauldron
It had that mystic look
Throws and cushions scattered
In a wholly wholesome ring
The circle of contentment
In honesty did bring

True substantiality
And a need that we could feel
A measure for the sabbats
Did majestically reveal
A calmness and an ethos
In a touchy feely way
Of bringing folk together
On what was this special day

Opening the quarters
To the goddesses for they
Were summoned and were welcomed
In a diagnostic way
Chants and songs and graceful prose
Reflections of the whole
A singing voice of genuineness
That pitched into each soul

With a freshness of sincerity
Inventive to a tee
The one and only Mary
Sang her songs so beautifully

A many layered rital
Affirmative and true
Reflecting many mediums
Advancing through and through

A merger of creative thought
A mellowing of soul
harmonious decisions
All part of the whole
A kind of deep unveiling
An embryonic tear
Commencing with a purpose
That felt so very clear

The pledges spoken out aloud
The written one’s then burned
And placed into the trusty urn
Transformed in fact and turned
Into a ashen glorification
A tale of true repose
Sanctioned by the ancestors
Whose transientness grows

Rue the druidess performed her rights
In fleeting fullness she
Clad in white as driven snow
Behold her majesty
Enduring were we onlookers
In a constant refrain
An uninterrupted intercourse
With everything to gain

Robin green elk’s poem
Was held in high esteem
Read out by Vish who took it upon himself
To shine, the team
Clearly all unshakable
Caught in the slipstream

Then we heard the druid bard
Talk of Gaia’ gift
With his roar of golden dandelions
And their extra sensory lift
Their stalwart and potent
Staying power
The milk witch as they be
Driving through roadside battlefields
To create equality

The goddesses were with us
Their energy and power
Channelled through
The positive
The compulsion of each hour

Veiled and with desiring
A quiescence one could feel
A soothing exaltation
Heightening the real

Each of us us were given
A glass pebble of green
With a silence held within it
And an all important sheen

The verdure of the victorious
The olivine display
The abundance of the morrow
And our vision for today.