‘Tis the Turning of the Wheel,
A time between.
What has been
is now finished.
What shall be, yet to
unfold.
Here at the portal, the veil is thin.
Our Beloved Dead walk among us.
Listen!
In the unwinding of the season
We hear them.
In the rising of the Moon
We hear them.
In the dawning of the day
We hear them.
In the sighing of the winds,
We hear them.
In the shivering of branches,
Half-shed of their leaves
We hear them.
In the crackling of the bonfire
We hear them.
In the crashing of the waves,
In the frost-drenched earth,
In the sureness of the soul
We hear them.
Crossing the veil
in the shadows they watch,
wondering
will we know them
for who they have become?
New and at once
the same.
our Beloved Dead walk among us.
Pay them heed.
The gift of their
love
endures.
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