MidWinter Vigils

Rigantona rides through winding paths in forests of Annwn
far away, yet Rhiannon’s shadow haunts the empty woodlands here;

Epona retreats to the deeps of the worlds as the Sun sinks low in her arms;

There is mystery in identity and these are propositions that shift
in the darkness of Midwinter;

Here, in the Nemeton, the meaning is clear
as questions dissolve in her presence:

The image of her riding,
The sense of her dwelling,
The gathering dark as a candle flame flickers,
The hope that is held in the glimmering light,
that it will be re-born;

Brigid guards the hearth-fire
to release the ice-locks
from her silver streams
on a bright day
beyond this silent night.

Questions in the Nemeton

FFYNNONE : In Cwm Cuch, in local legend the portal to and from Annwn

Who watches the Portal?
“I and Not-I”, answered Manawydan
“We guard the way,
The comings and goings
Through the Limina”.

Who keeps the Nemeton?
“I am the Guardian”, whispered Mererid
“She is the Spring,
The rising and falling
Of otherworld waters”.

Who holds the Cup?
“My hands contain it”, confided Rosmerta
“The Mead of Blessing
For all who pass, gifted
With the sovereignty of vision”.

Who rides through the gates?
“I am here and not-here”, declared Rhiannon
“Like the song of my birds on the air
Are my horse’s hoof-beats
Making Time out of Not-Time”.

Who plays the Harp?
“My skilful fingers”, chanted Mabon
“They pluck the strings
Shaping the Music of Being,
Enchanting the worlds with song”.

If you seek further counsel there might be a hint towards understanding HERE~>