O Dionysos Nyktelios,
Black Sun whose light is hidden
within the marrow of the world;
you who blaze beneath appearances,
whose radiance is known
only by those who have entered the night—
receive me.

Strip from me
the coward’s bargain,
the illusion that life
can be preserved
by clinging to itself.
Break the narrow law
that measures every breath
by profit,
every love
by safety,
every mystery
by utility.

You are the God
whose abundance spills beyond all measure,
whose wine is poured
until the cup overflows,
whose ecstasy is squandered
upon forests, deserts, and forgotten graves.
Nothing living is miserly in your presence.
The vine exhausts itself in fruit;
the stars lavish fire upon the darkness;
the heart is made holy
only by learning how to give itself away.

Black Sun,
teach me the wisdom
that blooms where fear is consumed.
May I not flee
the sacred wound,
the fertile darkness,
the silence where the old self
falls into the Earth
like a seed.

For death is not your enemy.
It is your hidden altar.
Life feeds upon death;
joy rises from grief;
the vine drinks decay
and returns it as sweetness.
What the timid call loss,
you reveal as transformation.
What the world buries,
you awaken.

O hidden fire,
burn away the hunger
to possess.
Let me spend myself
without calculation
in love,
in beauty,
in worship,
in generosity,
until nothing remains
but laughter echoing
through the caverns
of your eternal night.

Then,
when I behold
your impossible radiance
shining from the center of darkness,
I shall know
that the deepest light
has never belonged to the day.

Euoi.