One of the more memorable visions of my life came on a cold night on the shore of a mountain lake somewhere in Colorado. The temperature is -15°; snow squeaks loudly under boots. I watch the constellation Orion, near dawn, in crystalline air. Diamond dust falls sparkling in starlight. The land is frozen and dark. The Hunter casts arrows, trailing flaming stars, toward Sol rising on his golden throne to the east.
Words come to me, an ancestral prayer, beseeching the warrior for aid in resurrecting
the life-giving sun at this dark time of the year, else we starve. We must have light.
Winter’s Night
Orion! Orion! Bring your bow!
Across thousands of years
You have trailed the sun who this night of nights
Has fallen with our fears
Into the frozen, starlit snow
Orion! Orion! Bring your bow!
The tracks are faint
Marking Sol’s flight to peril’s darkened gate
Follow, O’ Mighty Hunter, while time stands still
For the Light of Lights is all we know
Orion! Orion! Bring your bow!
The moment is nigh to capture your prey
Your arrows must streak, and sword drawn, sing
Now! Rekindle the fire of Summer’s Day
And strike life to the seeds we sow.
* This of course is not the known myth of Orion; you will have to find that elsewhere. I was merely an observer.