Sister Goldenhair
by Ari
Sister Goldenhair, thou art lovely
And as thy feet pass through the fields
Of summer, all is made sacred in thy path.
Mother of Truth, thy voice is like a bell,
And needs no dancing eloquence to resound in me,
Only the simple words that cut to the heart.
Mother of Archers, thou seest what is, and speaks it
Like the shaft flying to its goal.
Beloved of Thunder, thou art the sunrise
Over the mountain, over the meadow,
As the clouds part and pass away.
Sif of the Crystal Cup, teach me to see
What is real, and no more, and say only
What is necessary, and no more, and do only
What is right, and no more.
Artwork by Thalia Took.