Love

Hymn to Dagda, the Big Bellied One

All hail to Dagda, wisdom's endless well,
in whom life and death together dwell.
Your cauldron holds the universe entire,
Your harp breaths into life it’s singing fire.

Oh Dagda, guide us as we seek the Way.
‘Tis cause your grace that night unites with day,
that winter weds herself to summer’s glow,
and seasons flow unto eternity.

Your club, the gift of life and death's decree,
does mark the rhythm of the star’s orbits.
Enjoined in Mother Danu’s sweet embrace,
your dance the play of energy and space.

Oh Dagda, in your light we trust.
You make complete what seems unjust.
Oak and seed in you are one.
You are the moon, you are the sun.

O praise to Dagda, good allfather.
In your presence, we find our home.
In your song, we find our name.
In your hands, we find our peace.

I

‘tis love that is the root of all creation
‘tis love that paints the sky with night and day
‘tis love that formed the cliff and mountain ridge
‘tis love that sends the ash tree aching up

‘tis love that spreads the heather ‘cross the dale
‘tis love that spurs the curlew’s haunting cry
‘tis love that births and bears all of mankind
and love that made from one the endless world

II

go sit beside a stream and hear its song
her waters are as ancient as the stars
her hymn a praise of all that breathe with life
of peaks and crags that rise and fall as waves

‘tis Danu’s endless song that is your heart
that beats and binds the flesh with blood
that joins your breath to the moon’s arc
and stirs the Milky Way to life with love

III

big love swallows the all in its embrace
small love plants pumpkin seeds into the earth
big love forgets all words and has no plans
small love will walk your son back home from school

big love knows not one speck of misery
small love brings in the laundry when it rains
big love diffracts into a morning kiss
small love fractals unto eternity

IV

in love’s sweet grip your life is throttled ‘way
enraptured by a touch a word a hope
which flee as fast as visions in a dream
and sap away your days and energy

there is no sin in flesh or gasps of lust
there is no wrong in eyes or ears or nose
her fingernails as sacred as a prayer
her mounds are monuments to the divine

V

the where and when and how remain unknown
yet from the ruined earth green sprouts of birch
their roots dig deep and fast as they reclaim
the soil for themselves and trees yet come

once grown their seeds are food for the greenfinch
their leaves a home for black sawflies and food
for moose and deer when winter’s stripped most trees
without a thought of good the good is done