Lesson from the Winter Solstice at Newgrange
Like the darkness inside the neolithic tomb,
the misapprehension is profound.
The star that lights this room
knows nothing of our needs, of our constructs.
It has no sense of its power, of how much we crave
and depend on its warmth and illumination.
It does not know that we have always been
sun worshippers. And are still.
Fall backwards in time a thousand years.
And then do it again four times more.
And still it is not enough to see the forming
of the stones that lie here still.
The magic of this place casts a spell.
It is a vortex that draws us to its prehistoric song.
Its mystery invades us and erases us from time.
And on the day we are furthest from the source,
the dial moves a single click,
and this lithic chamber of deathless dark
is consumed by light.
Does the star burn any less bright in that moment?
Is its power any less?
The ancients roll their eyes like stones over a hill.
We don’t need all the light.
We only need a little.