Pagan Prayer

67. 25 August 2021

All praise to you, Unconquered Sun!

All praise, all praise, our closest star.

Without you we are nothing, ended, done.

Without you we are a ball of ice.

We roam the fields of space, rocks and dust,

Spiralling as we travel afar.

We follow you because we must,

Because we love you, light above.

We are foolish specks on a small ball,

And you grip us with your love,

You hold us with your call.

You pour your light and heat out,

Graciously, generously giving of yourself,

Your radiation is a glad shout

In the dark and bitter wastes of space.

Your wind of particles slams into our air

You are violent restless gas, ever-churning.

At any moment we could be burning

In a solar flare or solar storm

And yet you usually just keep us warm.

One day it will end badly for you as well.

One day you will darken and swell