same old lantern, but…
ReBirth of Aurochs
You have come to know me as Herald of the Dawn,
aged sexton of the Abbey Lantern of Orbe
and watcher of fain soul-prints on the portal stones –
and one who tells of ancient lore and pretentions.
Aye, each whisper of sunrise yearning and surprise
finds me prepared to quench the wick-flame welcome;
as each hush of glomming calls for tend and sparkwise
to renew the portal glow for lost and weary.
That this lamp should cast aside shadows and lonely
is a given as known as promise of haven;
a beacon – a ward – a symbol of trust and bond
that in blessed Goddess eye outshines the noonday sun.
Yet no one asks after the source of nightly flame,
nor font of fragrant oil that outlasts the darkness;
albeit these be kin to sought eternal Light
and balm for wounded and abraded pursuits of love.
Of the fuel ask the maid who brushes Epona’s main
and the swain who gathers nestle-herbs in Loycha;
but of the spark of awe that flashes nightly bright,
I’ll grant you see the covet Aurochs Horn of Ayn.
It hangs below my heart in crescent moon-like bliss
to protect a single smoldering coal of ebon-pitch
held fast in woven talons of kestrel mates
that sustain faint life without a consuming blaze.
When the Light-Seed is poured onto the ivory dish
it joins another waiting to pass on simple faith –
one to light the lantern, another to lie in wait;
as it has been repeated for three million days!
faucon of Sakin’el