A poem for the season

From my perspective as a follower of Fjorn Sidr (The Old Custom), the themes of the Vernal Equinox are Renewal, Rebirth, and Fertility. This is a time to find balance between the darkness and want of Winter, and the light and plenty or Summer. We have survived the darkness and cold, now the beauty and life of spring and summer are right around the corner. It’s a celebration of the tipping point from darkness into light, from coldness into warmth, from resignation into hope.

I find it intriguing that the Christian theme for Easter, which is resurrection (rebirth), so closely resembles the themes of Spring Equinox Celebrations that have been held by Pagans for thousands of years. Indeed, Ostara reminds us that the Christian Mythology accepted a Pagan Goddess as the Namesake for one of it’s most holy festivals…Interesting indeed, and a reminder that collectively, no matter our creed, we celebrate many of the same holidays by different names, but in the same cosmic terms.

I hope this realization can be a great epiphany for many others just like it was for me, as I share in my poem entitled “Seeds of Spring, Seeds of Truth”


A Morning dawns, this time
the birth of light is due
rather than a shadowy land, I find
a young sun to illuminate anew

Like any other time except
what caught my eye, as I embarked
a green thing in a flower bed
striving to rise up through the darkness

A tiny thing it seemed,
and a tiny thing it was
but size is not a factor
in what small things may become

Every being, everything
whether beautiful, or abhorrent
the world knew as tiny seeds
the universe saw their humble beginnings

Every person, you and I
worshipping ourselves, the earth, even the sky
would never have envisioned
what we now know, through newborn eyes

Yes our perception now is broad
but, what were we once
nothing more than love
between a pair of hearts

Love, a thought, a child, a seed
how these things manifest
if we nurture them
as they need

So as I saw that little seedling
saw it truly in my mind
I was brought back to a memory
of an earlier time

If you know me now
would you know me then

An individual of the material
of the immediate, and the present
not yet acquainted with the ethereal
with my ancestors, with the omnipresent

T’was a time when one more frost,
one more drought,
could have ended my life
could have stamped out that seedling

But I was not lost, as the present shows,
for I was given a gift
though at the time, I knew not
just what the universe was giving

Just how big this seed would grow
how it would blossom in my life
how it would fill my heart and mind
my very spirit with love and light

It was but a book
filled with stories of men and women
of Gods and creatures,
of secrets, whispers, and mysteries

some would call the content
ignorant  mythology

Within these rhythms, within these rituals
I found an understanding
I found a life I knew worth living

within myself, I found purpose
within myself, I found forgiveness

So I travelled and I searched
for clarity among these whispers
I found many wise ones
from whose wisdom, I was glad to learn

Until I found the seed of wisdom
deep within my being
I knew then that the truth
was more of feeling, less of seeing

After much searching
through the annals of history
things became much clearer
then ancient hatreds would have them be

I found a story, of a beautiful Goddess
by the name of Ostara
Eostre, our ancestors called her

She gave birth and life to a celebration
of new  life, and rebirth
symbols and metaphors, eggs and rabbits
the essence of cosmic cycles
taking place right now, during this time

You see the darkness will hold sway
for a time, as it always must,
but inevitably it always yields
to a brighter sun that shines on us

Today is a day, when dark and light
exist in perfect harmony
this time is when we plant our seeds
so they may draw life from our light

Whether planting fruits or vegetables
or knowledge, love, or inspiration
now is the time to consider
what our seeds may grow into

For if we plant evil, or hate, or distrust
and nurture them as such
in our fields they will grow
until they ripen in our hearts

A little flower, coming up for spring
I’ve never been taught so much
as by that little thing
as by that little seed

Through mythology, a story
what can one know
from a seed
what will we grow