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Invocation
Lady, queen, sky-ruler
Flax-haired sower,
Beloved Earth-daughter,
Blessed white birch-woman
Bounties you lay before me,
Of children's voices
Of opening daisies
A lark soaring, singing
in bliss and beauty
spiralling in clear morning air
song rising to the sacred halls
Willow bending to the water
Silver leaves that trail to touch my hand
Silence holding heartbeat
You keep the keys to many doors
and know what lies behind.
Spindle whirling, from strong fingers
falling, spiralling, dropping weighted
downwards twisting ørlög-laden threads:
All wyrd you know, yet speak it not.
Yet to your worshippers
a word that points a way
to fen-hall's frith-queen
enthroned,
enduring ever.
© Copyright J Blain 1998.
All rights reserved.
Wyrdswell - Jenny Blain's
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Image: "Frigga", © Giovanni Caselli. Used with permission.
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