From the crest of the hill which is the sun’s apparent path in the sky, the view is breathtaking, even if I can’t See Russia From Here.
We pause and rest awhile as we survey the past, down that slope, and eagerly scout out the future, down that one, saying:
Great One of Heaven, Power of the Sun,
I invoke thee in Thy ancient names;
Michel, Balin, Arthur, Lugh,
Come again as old into this, Thy land.
Lift up Thy shining spear of light to protect me.
Put to flight the powers of darkness.
Give us fair woodlands and green fields,
Blossoming orchards and ripening corn.
Bring me to stand upon Thy hill of vision,
And show me the path to the lovely realms of the Gods.
Hey, Northern Hemisphere – we’ve finished with him for the moment. You can have the Oak King back, now.
Pic: William Li