A Rose is still a Rose…

I want to tell you a little something about Gods, I hate to use the term ‘My Gods’ because they are not ‘mine’ but you catch my drift!  They are not about bells and whistles, crashing cymbals and flamboyant omens.  No… these Gods are mostly silent but when they speak to me, it is but a whisper.  He stalks the shadows praying upon the weak, the wanderer whose presence is heralded only by the cold icy North winds.  He needs no introduction for all of us shall meet him one day to be cast into Fate’s cauldron.  He was the first and will be there at the end.  She comes and goes as she pleases my Mistress, The Dame.  Her face I have never looked upon but her kiss is like a memory of a dream I once had, leaving nothing but a longing to feel it again…a pain in my heart where her arrow once pierced and has never truly healed.  A feeling of loss is what drives me to them… a feeling that once I knew them only too well and now I am here stranded in the wilderness longing to find my way home, for re-union.  Together they are my Muse, neither shouts or screams or pokes and prods; instead they gently goad and tease, sometimes they play and mystery is their game.  I often ask myself if my choices are really choices at all or simply strands on Fates loom which I am doomed to live entangled within as Her wattle weaves in and out of my life, sometimes in plain sight, often hidden from mortal eyes. They are the freshly tilled field and the seed growing within it… they are idea, inspiration, dream and desire.

 Truth is His name, and hope is his gift, for even in pain and sickness there is The Truth and Hope that one day we shall be free from slavery and suffering and reunited with Our Lady, even if the twinkle in Her eyes tells us that there is still more to come…

 These Gods have no names, in all my years of searching they have chosen not to tell me and I accept that, for ultimately it doesn’t matter, every sound, every word, every name especially, is Hers, for her breath was the first breath and my breath is dedicated to them.  To me they are Lord and Lady, The Dame and Old Man, King and Queen, Maid and Magister, Death and Decay, Life and Birth.     

 All they ask of me is to live, no simple request I think you’ll admit.  They do not demand my time, my blood or my soul for it already belongs to them, but still I offer all willingly for we must make some sacrifices to walk the path less trod.  It is not a special path, it is not a path of glory or of gold, of power or celebrity but one of wisdom, knowledge and understanding.  I do not have enough of any of these to know what lies at the end of the path but I have ample Faith which is enough to tell me it’s a path I want to…no…Have to travel. 

 I once felt envious of others who apparently had the Gods on speed dial and who seemed to be having divinity round for dinner on a daily basis.  I didn’t realise that I was in fact doing the same thing only we tend to email and we much prefer afternoon tea!  I guess what I’m trying to say is this.  My neighbour grows the most stunningly beautiful white English Hybrid Tea Rose, I too grow a Rose, mine is a pink Dog Rose.  It can and will always be so… yet a Rose is still a Rose… we must see the beauty in what grows in our own gardens as well as what grows in our neighbour’s! There is no harm in having a peak over the fence, but I have been taught never to envy (or covet) another man’s plot…the soil after all is completely different.

 The Gods inspire me in everything I do even writing this blog and despite how unsure I was about posting this I’m glad I have.  There is a balance between sharing things we may learn and divulging too much personal detail, something I have fallen foul of in the past.  Walking the path of the Witch can be a such a lonely path but it’s also a personal one…We don’t all grow the same roses…and some people can be so insecure they will go out of their way to devalue your relationship with God, Spirit, the divine and so on.  For that reason there can never be one way, one God, one leader of the pack, one authority.  Every gardener grows and nurtures a different Rose, every Rose has a different colour, a different perfume, some are thorny, some are hybrids some may be miniature whilst others may ramble…but they are all at the end of the day Roses of equal beauty.

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One Response to A Rose is still a Rose…

  1. Hermit Witch says:

    It sent shivers down my spine reading this. I couldn’t agree more.

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