You are my wild Horned God.
On Norse and Danaan strands
Long before the Christians came
And changed You into Devil,
You were mine,
Alone,
And gave me your Golden Horn
All through the frigid Northern Night.
I loved You then —
A febrile, full possession —
And I love You still.
For years I have dreamed
Of your Dark Eyes and Face,
Man-Child,
In Nightmares,
Afraid
Of your Will and Kiss of Infamy.
Sometimes,
In others,
I have caught glimpses of You,
But always You eluded me —
Except in those Dreams.
And then,
Oh then —
Naked under Sirius,
Skyswept,
We howled and rode,
Until
Whistling over Beltane Fires,*
You took your savage braid-bound witch
And tamed her into Goddess,
Birthing Unicorns.