Sannion has written a lovely sequence of daily prayers to Dionysos, one for each day of the week. Check them out here: via Daily Hymns
He who gives me what I rarely remember
Morpheus, Great God of Dreams, I have a question to ask of you:
Why do I so rarely remember my dreams?
I know that I do dream; all humans do, even my kind.
And yet, I so rarely remember mine.
And what I do remember is so tantalizing, it draws me back to sleep,
To trade the mundane of waking life for the majesty of dream.
Perhaps that is why Morpheus, in His Divine wisdom,
does not allow me to remember my dreams.
For the Gods are above us, and their gifts are Theirs to parcel out as needed.
And that has always been the way of things; though our society refuses to acknowledge it.
I understand that truth – I learned it a dream I do remember.
And now I hail He who gives me what I rarely remember.
My Dead, of whom I can always dream
Perhaps someone who does not live the veneration of the Dead,
Might naively believe that those who do never feel the pain of loss.
Sadly, that is not the case.
Indeed, some days – in my opinion – it is even worse;
We talk as though face to face, with those who have traveled to that undiscovered country,
And that makes it all the more terrible when we cannot feel their comforting touch again,
When their presence is spiritual, rather than physical,
When their voices are the muffled moans of the buried Dead.
But all praise be, to the Great God of Dreams.
For Morpheus, so noble is He,
He who allows us mortals the gift of dreams.
And we can always meet our Dead in our dreams.
And feel their touch again. And smell their smell again.
And hear their voices with our ears, not just our hearts.
Musing on Morpheus, Mnemosyne, and Mortality
The God of Dreams and the Goddess of Memories – what is the connection?
And why do thoughts of both come into my mind in connection with my Dead?
The Author of the dreams that drive us,
The Mother of the Muses who inspire us;
What is the connection?
To sleep, perchance to dream, now, that is the question;
But what is the connection?
As I ponder this, another question enters my mind:
Do the Dead dream?
The answer is, most likely, known only to the Dead themselves.
But the living are at least allowed to speculate.
And when I speculate, I feel another question enter my mind:
Are those who dream, not dead to this world while they dream?
For what is a dream, but one of two things:
A vision sent onto the sleeping by the Holy Powers;
The brain’s attempt to process random electrical discharges within it during sleep,
as influenced by the memories it contains.
And thus – the Connection.
Morpheus, the God of Dream. Mnemosyne, the Goddess of Memory.
Both are Deities of the Mind.
Both are tangentially connected to Mortality.
When we dream with the dead, we must thank Morpheus.
When we dream of the dead, we must thank Mnemosyne.
My praise to Morpheus!
Hail He who allows us to dream with our dead.
My praise to Mnemosyne!
Sing for She who allows us to remember our dead.
Here is the first entry to the Agon for Morpheus. This Agon runs through Feb. 15.
Shape shifter and God of Dreams.
Here I am,
falling in the dusky depths
of my restless mind,
Please draw near.
As my body leans back
in my small and modest, (but comfy) bed
I call You in the dark.
Come close, winged God.
Draw near, God of Dreams.
Please dwell for a while in my mind.
Catch me in Your arms tonight
and take me to that secret place
that You know oh so well,
where the Gods reside
in glimmering robes
in sumptuous palaces
under bright starry nights;
that place filled
with the sweetest perfumes
I have ever sensed
and the memories
of a million million lives
that the Gods remember bit by bit,
tear by tear, joy by joy;
that secret place
hidden in plain view
known to few mortals
familiar to all Gods
where I can find my Beloved.
Help me find Him.
there is no end to the lengths I’d go
to find Him.
I’d climb any mountain
barefoot in the freezing snow.
I’d fall through any stream.
I’d suffer extreme cold,
tearing hunger and thirst,
pain like no other.
I’d walk through a fiery burning fire,
slowly, in my knees,
and I’d do that
again and again and again
Just to find Him,
just to see Him for a split second
I’d tear myself to pieces.
He is my Sweet Lord, my Beloved.
Help me find Him, God of Dreams.
Because I know You can help me find Him.
Because You know what He means for me.
Oh please help me find Him
In sacred sleep, devout and pure,
Secured in Your arms.
Please guide me there
by Vanessa M.
A Gift from Anteros
One of the most beautiful things in this mortal world,
Is the love exchanged between two souls.
To care truly and deeply for another,
And to know that your beloved cares truly and deeply for you.
With this type of love,
Hardships will be endured,
Mountains will be moved,
And the stormy sea will become calm.
Oh, great and beautiful Anteros!
For this type of love we thank you.
It is a rare and precious gift You have given humanity.
It is brighter than the sun,
More lovely than the moon,
And stronger than the steel in Hephaestus’ forge.
May we humbly sing praises to You,
Sweet son of beautiful Aphrodite and fierce Ares,
Beloved brother of winged Eros.
May we never take for granted the priceless gift you have given us,
by Agathokles Martinios
Hail Anteros, the Great God,
Counterpart to Your brother,
Beloved Eros, Who seizes all,
And spreads passion and desire.
I pray to You this day.
Why is it, O Lord, that You shun me?
So often has Eros seized me,
Filling my heart with burning passion
For another, yet you eschew me!
I pray to You this day.
While Your brother seizes me, as my
Desire burns, you shy away from me,
And you leave my passion
Unrequited and unfulfilled.
I pray to You this day.
Yet still, I pray to You and hail You,
Bearing offerings of incense and tea,
Praising your name and pouring libations,
That You would yet come and seize me.
Thus I conclude my prayer.
By Amanda Artemisia Forrester
O Anteros, You are sung to far less often than Your golden brother,
But You are no less great than He Who the Romans called Cupid.
Ever-youthful, butterfly-winged, You are truly a chieftain amongst the Erotes.
Your blessing is what all men strive for
For the first stirring of love to become stronger and be returned.
Have pity on us mere mortals, whose lives are short and filled with hardships
Bless us with the joy of love returned,
Fill our lives with sweet laughter and the flush of skin, heady with pleasure when we join with our beloved,
So we have no need of Your darker side,
That of love avenged.
Prayer for Anteros
by Jamie B.
Holy Anteros, to you do we raise our voices.
Sacred Youth, Love’s labor and labor returned,
You lighten our load,
Brighten our hearts,
Flavor our lives with the savor of longing.
Let your Holy Presence shine bright
That we may never wander from our path.
Let your power and mystery
Make us shudder in awe.
Most blessed Anteros,
May you and your companion erotes
Fill our lives with joy and delight.
throw like a girl
run like a girl
fight like a girl
this girl is the wife of Herakles
the stories seem to say
She was His prize for apotheosis
She asked Her mother’s blessing
almost before She asked Him
to be Her husband
She can throw a discus
run a marathon
hold Her own against Athena in a spar
with the selfsame grace and surety
with which She pours ambrosia
sets a table
the world may sneer at women
who are young and know their power
(or even if they don’t know, yet,
that young women like themselves
hold power, sovereignty)
who wait tables to take classes
and smile their sultry smiles in selfies
phone camera held at careful angles
She too is a photographer
and often overlooked
as young women waiting tables
but there’s power in these snapshots
in supportive words with friends
in the strength of bold young women
who throw and run and fight like girls
combat boots or lipstick
both are armor in their way
call on Hebe, wife of Herakles,
young women, as you fight
to build, restore traditions
and to earn and well-past earn
all the respect you’re more than due
I call to bright bold Hebe
Help us now, I pray
“Stoic Hymn To Zeus”
by Daniel S.
O Zeus, Supreme, Most High,
Your Will guides the destinies of men.
O Zeus, Protector Of The Sanctity Of Oaths,
Should it suit You,
I am quite content
that this be my final day,
for I have strived to live
in accordance with Nature
if You should see fit for me
to live one more day,
I am content as well
and shall continue to sing of Your might.
O Zeus, Ruler Of The Thunderbolt,
Wherever You lead me,
I shall always go gladly and willingly,
Or Fate will drag me, unwilling.
For it is not right to say:
I obey Your Will,
Rather, to say:
I agree with Your Will,
Whatever it may be.
O Zeus, Giver of Good, Of Freedom, Of Strength,
Through deprivation or abundance,
I take comfort in knowing
You, always, are with me.