I am actually quite a bit late with composing something for the Treasury’s New Year, as it has already passed, though not very long ago. But, since tomorrow is secular new year, I suppose it’s not too, too late. ❤
O, Apollon, Yours is the coarse wind ripping through the tree branches, bare and clawing at the sky, ripe with the howl of Boreas. You drive a chariot of swift-winged swans, gliding through the air, and You direct the wolves’ hunt below, and the flight of their wily prey.
O, God of terror and beauty, Winter, Your Season, is both beautiful and terrible. Though we in this time may forfeit the knowledge of the true darkness of Winter, we remember traces of fear, deep in our bones.
You, the very darkness, are upon us now, veiled by a shroud of light. Ever growing, it spreads out across the land to awaken the slumbering flora. As time passes, as one Season becomes the next, each day has its turn to hold Your magnificent light. And each day, the light reveals a steadily building heat which soon shall envelope the land, in all its glorious anticipation.
With the warming will come the melted snows, to fill the rivers and streams, and the Spring rains shall seep into the Earth. Moisture is the catalyst, and it will herald the births of the new fauna, as surely as it entices the green-growing things. And all this is possible through You, O God of the liminal, of the sacred transition.
Be You now present as the old year falls away. Be You now the bridge over which we all shall cross. And in time, as the Seasons turn and turn again, may You be the dark embrace of Winter, veiled in light, to brighten our way through each long, cold night.