Ode to Brighid

Ode to Brighid

Like the sound of a butterfly's wings she descends upon the snow covered forest. A nebulous presence filled with the essence of a wildflower rising in the early morning sun. Birds begin to sing as they greet her radiant arrival. Her skin glistens like the surface of an ice laden pond whose surface is gently caressed by the rays of the midnight moon.
The violent winter winds become mere wisps of cool breath as she passes by. A lone hawk, circling above high in the sky, gives a thunderous shriek. The gleam emitting from his yellow eyes, reveals an expression of heartfelt joy. For far below, it is Brighid who meanders amongst the silent panorama of this sacred forest.
Herds of deer gather in her wake to absorb the crescendos of heat emitting from her beating heart.
It is the time for our Sacred Mother, Brighid to stroll forth out of the heavenly mists. As she steps out of the dark shroud of the mysteries she casts about the rays of brilliant light that herald the coming of Spring.
For it is Brighid, she who represents the sacred torch, that brings life to bear in a world beset with darkness.
Dark hooded crows line her route as if they were wary sentinels. They are creatures of the netherworld who accompany their queen on her journey through this realm. And such are masters of magick, who bow low before their beloved Goddess.
For they know that it is our mother Brighid, who is the epitome of such ancient wisdom.
Suddenly, in the cold winter morn, the tap, tap, tap of tiny hammers can be heard echoing across the land. Deep within the earth beneath her feet, the woodland dwarfs are hard at work. They are anxiously laboring to create a splendid gift for their beloved matron. Such magnificent artisans give honor to Brighid by way of their superb craftsmanship. For it is the radiant Brighid, who it is that represents the aspect of Blacksmithing and her children who live in the depths of the earth know this well. And so they clamor about with a song in their souls, seeking to create the perfect gift for she who inspires them so.
As she walks along, a gaggle of geese fly by overhead heralding her presence to all far and near. And then from a strand of oaks steps out a gray bearded Druid who begins to recite long forgotten odes.
His words are like living sounds dancing about in the crisp morning chill. For behold, it can be none other then Taliesin himself, he who is the Arch Druid of old. As he serenades his queen, the brown sheathed reeds off to the side of the path begin to sway to and fro.
His eloquent words describe a world of Gods and magick engaged in tremendous battle. His is a sad tale of life and death which for a brief moment, brings a tear to the lovely Brighid's eye.
As she listens to the words of the bard, she relives the passing of her own son, Ruadan. It was from the death of her son which came the first keening, Brighid's own lament, and that was heard across the land.
As Taliesin continues to weave his tale, he recounts the heroic events and the rebirth of life which followed such an epic saga. And Brighid once again begins to smile.
For health and the birth of life are also aspects of our Sacred Mother.
About then a huge horned owl goes gliding by his w ings spread wide in all their glory as he gently lands on Brighid's shoulder.
She stops and after a short pause she begins to speak to the owl.
Go forth my winged friend she says and carry my words to all who would listen.
And these are the words she spoke aloud.
Hope is a seed often borne out of despair. For without the dark there can be no light, for each keeps the other in balance.
From the throes of death come the stirrings of life. And such balance is the essence of true magick.
Know that as the Wheel of Knowledge turns, so shall the Great Mysteries of life reveal themselves to those who seek such ancient wisdom.
And with that the great horned owl took to the skies to spread the word far and wide.
And with that the mists began to rise all about Brighid as she raised her arm and gave her blessings to the world about. An instant later she was gone and a lone sparrow stood singing where she was just a moment before...