The Rite

| March 4, 2018
The Rite

by Arinbjorn OR

I feel It rising within me
The Churning Fire flows
Like waves on an endless ocean
The Fylfot turns, the Wheel rolls
And the Millstone grinds
I draw it forth and push it out
It is my ink and I will paint the
World with my Breath and Fire
The air vibrates in anticipation

I cast my signs and symbols
Emblazoned in the air and my unseen eye
The Wheel turns and draws in more
Me and more than me, My Self and Greater Self
Scarred and sacred hands now play
Their part is to draw in- reabsorb
That which I have pushed out
Breath in, Breath out, the tides flow forth
Hagal makes Hail Heal and all Holy

I breath it in and like a lost soul
It fits well within me, though a little snug
It forces expansion, itself creating itself
This great breath of power, out and then in
Each cycle growing more, like a volcano
Floating in the sea, spreading its liquid self
Over the cooling waters- potential and conception
I force my own development or forge my own chain
My life is mine alone and I am its god and man

The Yawning Chasm waits below me
The Heavenly Halls rise above me
The Future of Will spreads before me
The Spirits of my Ancestors stand behind me
The World and all her possibilities sit around me
The Power and Fury wells up from within me
The Winds bring me visions and guide me
The Cleansing Rain brings clarity and calms me
The realization of my Self gladdens me

My hands tingle and muscles twitch
My blood pumps and the adrenaline surges
My mind races and swims in thought
My breath is steady and I am in control
I slow the winds, and I sooth the fires
I calm the waves and I stop the rains
I release that which I hold with thanks
I return to my self and close my eye
I open my eyes again and am home once more.


Category: Poetry & Prose

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