Hail to he of the wine-dark eyes
He comes from the earth
Like a wildling breeze
That unsettles the grasses
And scatters the seeds
Hail to he of the ivy-crowned head
He opens the doorways
Between here and there
Between life and death
And settles them back into place
Hail to he of the leopard sash
He loosens the mind
He loosens the legs
For those who are caught
In heavy oppression of the heart
Hail to he of the fennel thyrsos
He dances to his own rhythm
Of wild and chaotic beats
Within which many things are revealed
And often forgotten
Hail to the splendid God Dionysus
Leader of Maenads and Satyrs
For he is joined by them
In their eternal quest
To set us forever free
Art: The Triumph of Bacchus, oil on canvas painting by Charles-Joseph Natoire, 1736
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