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The Sun Stops but a Moment
by PC Kennedy

When every oak tree from the earth rose enrobed
in golden-green bowers, Celt ancients foretold
that the king of the dark time and king of the light
would fight through night fires to rule from earth's throne.
First one, then his brother would call it his own.

Alone on the rise as mere grass in the field,
we witness the change as one forest king yields
his crown, his bounty; the old law obeyed.
To the noble King Holly, Oak’s lost his command;
in the months yet to come, lost his way over land.

The sun stops but a moment and day mocks the night
when the year’s clock is turning at Midsummer’s height;
then the seasons move on through the dance of the stars.
The twin rivals embrace when their paths cross and follow,
gain and lose strength from the sun’s ebb and flow.

Each twin takes his heart in the rise and the death,
at his peak is his fall, as above so beneath.
Neither be constant; he plays out a part
in the mythic exchange from cold autumn to spring.
The old King is dying now. Long live the King.

Midsummer Night


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