The hour has arrived. The veil grows thin. Those on the other side who visit may be seen or felt with greater intensity. Beware! Not all who walk this night are benign. This much is true.
And so we gather, light bonfires, toast the end of a long year and the gathering of the harvest. We set aside something for the faeries, those guardians of the portal, and something for the deities who spin the wheel of the year.
To me, every hour of light and dark is a miracle,
Every cubic inch of space is a miracle,
Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with the same,
Every foot of the interior swarms with the same.
A blessed Samhain to all who read "The Gods Are Bored." See you next year. And by that, I mean next Druid year. It begins tomorrow.
Image: Scottish mummers.