Our mother, Gaia, shall never die
Though for us I cannot speak
When Terra does turn her back to our kind
Our might shall seem so meek
Roaring flames do lick her skin
While Chaos’ storms do rage
But Mother Earth will retreat within
And turn to a blank new page.

Zeus will fall when the skies go black
His wife, Hera, to follow when families dissolve
Once the gods fall there’ll be no way back
And hubris will be our final resolve.
Chronus may falter when there’s nobody alive
To observe the passage of hours
When the clocks have all stopped,
Gears unturning under toppled clock towers
No grandfathers left to chime.
But Gaia will live on in sleep so bereft
Long after we’re lost to time.

With no men to wage wars, Ares will fade
Athena too as innovation runs dry
Aphrodite may weep when there’s no love to be made
Hermes, when there’s nowhere to fly
And though our sun will live past our end,
There’ll be no chariot of gold
No homes, no hearths for Hestia to tend
And no music for Apollo to behold

We have long lost one of the faces
Of Artemis, the huntress under moonlight’s reign
And civilization (so-called) now erases
Pan, the wild god, and his sacred domain
What next, I now ask, shall we bid our farewell?
What aspect of humanity lost?
As we stumble along nearer to Hell
Whom shall be the next forgot?

But fear thee not, for life’s most precious gift
is the transience, the temporal nature of Earth
All will change, all will shift
and perhaps a different Cosmos may birth.
Once the stardust settles, a new something to arrive
And we shall perhaps there meet once again
Tied by fresh cords of fate to share new lives.

And all the while, she’s waited for us
Watching and loving those souls immortal
Taking new forms now from different dust
She’ll rejoice and rebirth the primordial
They will rise and then fall and eventually make way
For the pantheon of a new universe to arise
Perhaps not all will look the same--
But close enough for essence to find.

Our Mother, who art of Terra
Cherished be thy heart
Thy wisdom is needed,
Thy guidance be heeded,
Wherever we arrive or depart.
As is above, so be below;
We ask of thee for our nourishment,
Feed us in body, in mind and in soul
Unite us under the blessed maypole
Even as we strive, to reach and to thrive
In search of individual goals.
Guide us with thy wisdom, towards brighter days ahead
And protect us from all forms of harm that may fall upon our heads
For thou art the Earth, the Mother,
Our Goddess forever and ever.
So mote it be.

I love the ambiance, the steady constant of raindrops crashing against the earth
I love how it washes away the pollen and dust
Cleansing the air so I can breathe
I love umbrellas and glossy rain boots in yellow or red
Fat raindrops speeding to bring hope and salvation to the deserted ground
Best of all I love to be completely surrounded by a storm:
Lighting so close it sends a  tingle along your skin and lights up the night like day,
Thunder so crashingly loud it resonates in your stomach and feet,
Stirring the primordial fear of unknown power,
of both darkness and of light
of the shadows and not of what casts them
but of certain illumination wrought with paradox,
The wind that blows up my dress and lifts the hair from my neck
filling my umbrella until I feel weightless
For one glorious moment, I almost believe I may float away with the storm

We cannot help but romanticize the phenomenal
Giving ever-changing names and faces to the forces of nature, believing l
or at least pretending
That they’re alive with us.
And maybe,
in a sense,
They are alive.
Not with us,
But within.