In sultry repose, Great Lady, do You lie, crowned with stars and silver
And let slip from Your glorious hand, this perfect glowing pearl
To slide across the silken skies, this royal cloak of velvet
You bless us all with golden morns and silent inky blackness
You bless the tiny makers and their golden liquid horde
You bless me while i lose myself to summer's celebrations
And shining down with flaming grace upon these jubilations
While wild spirits dance the ring, and drum themselves to madness
Your sacred flame it burns us all and turns us into ashes
While holy waters flowing forth reshape the year's great turning
Let hatreds turn to seeds of peace and thorn and vine entwine us
For harvest comes and soon we'll see the fruits of this year's sowing
- Chris Getz
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