O Sol!

O Sol! Praise bright-burning Sun!
The ill-dispelling light
that shall not be hindered by day
She thousand-beamed grants
to all the Earth's million children,
four- or two-legged, feathered or furred,
whom shadows shall not engulf
'tween rise and fall of the rosy disc;
for she banishes mist, making trees
to be naked and chaste. Her eye
further sees than Heimdall's, and none
may obscure or make opaque
what she, benevolent, transparences,
and x-ray eyes, like all is glass,
that secrets, yielded up, speak righteous,
or wrong, and wrongs evaporate,
washed up in the fire her glistening disc
yields; say cheer, say fierce, relentless cheer
undarkened by approach of night, she offers,
to all who would stand beneath her
and declare their truth forth-right.
Dark wights vanish and turn to stone
beneath her ruthless gaze of good,
for she bears no nonsense in her grip
that greens the stony palace-floors of Earth.
Herbs and rounded petal-stalks need warming ;
calves and colts and fawns crave heat. She has
blessings to scatter, boons to share; and every day,
her sole joy to strong-arm sun-gift all joy
growing things need to waken fruition.
Call her general of life's armies of light,
Lady Formidable, whose eyes are hard
to meet, her smiles ferocious, her grace
savage and proud, mead-horn brim-spill
with fresh and daily dignity, shared out.
You may stand in honor under her light.
She is the Mistress of Day, the Queen
of the whole Orbit's Pageant, around whom
all flock that she might waken to woman's
joy, and men, in good giving and grace.
Reading wyrd risted on hemoglobin
or chlorophyll, she knows, just little less
than Urd, Great Grandmother, herself ;
seeing through you, seeing all of you,
you might find your self-concept cleansed
when she sees, searing, through any darkness
now dispelled. Come into the light.
Sol a'welcomes you. We welcome her, hail Sol!