In The Bleak Midwinter

entry picture


(An old post but on hearing the Holst/Rossetti carol in Selby Market today I just couldn't resist)


To the sensibilities of our cossetted ears this was grisly business.  To those watching, though, this was a thing of glory – a glory greater than battle, glory which brought men close to the gods.

The Mace of Sol was older than the stories of the Old Folk – a thigh bone from a great beast, of which the Elders spoke but none could recall, for such beasts were no more.

The Mace was held high in the grey, mid-winter dawnlight by the High Priest.  Kneeling beneath, extending his head in reverent supplication, the crippled boy was offered.

◄ White Rabbit

If... ►


No comments posted yet.

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message