Pagans Celebrate Night of the Risen Sun
WarderDragon
Sol Invictus. The Unconquered Sun. To the ancient Pagans, Winter Solstice marked the night when their Horned God rose again. When the Sun, the divine masculine, was born anew and reunited with his eternal companion, the Great Goddess. It is for them, a time of celebration and mirth. Revelry, not so different from our own.
The Gypsies, lowlanders wandering the paths and ancient breezeways of fallen Ilshenar, celebrate this holiday each year in the shadow of the Compassion shrine. It was there we gathered.
Cezanne Abella, who arranged the celebration, began the evening by consecrating the ground beneath them. Around the bonfire, she lit four candles, calling on the Powers of the four cardinal directions to protect those ensnared within. And then, with a prayer, she called upon the spirit of her God and Goddess.
She, and others, then socialized, danced and exchanged stories around the fire. Cezanne chanted “Nocturne Sol Invictus,” while Paytience, Fortunada, and an unnamed stranger offered tales of their own.
When a pause came, the Gypsy Rom Baro, Agostino, awed the ladies present with a fire dance and a song of his own.
WarderDragon
"The night came in flashes of colour and light as the lanterns cast wild shadows of dancers on the tents. Here and there, candlelight shining through translucent scarves cast brilliant hues of light across the revelers. The night of Sol Invictus had claimed the spirits of the natives and visitors alike, as bejeweled dancers spun and jingled round the fire."
- Nocturne Sol Invictus, Cezanne Abella.
- Nocturne Sol Invictus, Cezanne Abella.
Sol Invictus. The Unconquered Sun. To the ancient Pagans, Winter Solstice marked the night when their Horned God rose again. When the Sun, the divine masculine, was born anew and reunited with his eternal companion, the Great Goddess. It is for them, a time of celebration and mirth. Revelry, not so different from our own.
The Gypsies, lowlanders wandering the paths and ancient breezeways of fallen Ilshenar, celebrate this holiday each year in the shadow of the Compassion shrine. It was there we gathered.
Cezanne Abella, who arranged the celebration, began the evening by consecrating the ground beneath them. Around the bonfire, she lit four candles, calling on the Powers of the four cardinal directions to protect those ensnared within. And then, with a prayer, she called upon the spirit of her God and Goddess.
She, and others, then socialized, danced and exchanged stories around the fire. Cezanne chanted “Nocturne Sol Invictus,” while Paytience, Fortunada, and an unnamed stranger offered tales of their own.
"Do not forget us, nor forsake us,
You the Golden Mistress, breaking free.
Enter we now this frozen dream,
Of cathedral nocturne, enshrined,
by starlight's cold lumina,
This Night of Sol Invictus,
send we our song unto the world.
We sing unto your sojourn,
Bring forth harp and tambourine,
Lift aloft voices and pray
For the rebirth of the Sun.
May your luminescence
Bring with it flowers of the field:
Columbine, dandelion, and forget-me-not.
The world lies dark and expectant-
Awaits you breathlessly,
'Neath winter night's curled claws,
Our spirits, as do the ghosts of our breath,
Exhale, await and rise.
While flora and fauna yet slumber,
Hasten thee to wake the world from dreamless slumber.
Shake winter's frozen stars from our hair,
And bathe us in the purity of newborn light.
Blessed be..."
You the Golden Mistress, breaking free.
Enter we now this frozen dream,
Of cathedral nocturne, enshrined,
by starlight's cold lumina,
This Night of Sol Invictus,
send we our song unto the world.
We sing unto your sojourn,
Bring forth harp and tambourine,
Lift aloft voices and pray
For the rebirth of the Sun.
May your luminescence
Bring with it flowers of the field:
Columbine, dandelion, and forget-me-not.
The world lies dark and expectant-
Awaits you breathlessly,
'Neath winter night's curled claws,
Our spirits, as do the ghosts of our breath,
Exhale, await and rise.
While flora and fauna yet slumber,
Hasten thee to wake the world from dreamless slumber.
Shake winter's frozen stars from our hair,
And bathe us in the purity of newborn light.
Blessed be..."
When a pause came, the Gypsy Rom Baro, Agostino, awed the ladies present with a fire dance and a song of his own.
Dawn's first rays caressed the new fallen snow when the Gypsies began to douse their fires and settle in for the night. So begins, for them, a new year, and the promise of what is to come...
