"‘They have not forgotten the Mysteries,' she said, ‘they have found them too difficult. They want a God who will care for them, who will not demand that they struggle for enlightenment, but who will accept them just as they are, with all their sins, and take away their sins with repentance. It is not so, it will never be so, but perhaps it is the only way the unenlightened can bear to think of their Gods.'”

~~Mists of Avalon

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~~*~~

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Weep for what’s forgotten, sisters,

weep for what is lost,

for the tyranny and blinding hate

which shroud this deadened land.

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Watch, sisters, as the mists swell

and drift over the moors and

seas, as our Avalon disappears

and fades into legend.

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Listen to the bells of Glastonbury,

sisters, and hear the death-knell

of an age, ringing to celebrate

the murder of a culture.

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See those nuns, those wimpled women

and withered virgins, submitting

docilely to the faith that enslaves

them and all their sisters.

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Shiver in the darkness, sisters, and

feel the icy grip of oppression

as it chokes the life and vigor

from our native home, our blessed earth.

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Cry for what is gone, and bemoan

this cursed fate.  Sisters, we few are

left, we few to hold the faith and preserve

that which they would smother.

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