Ode to the Horned God

A hallowed clearing in an ancient wood
So thick the daylight scarcely trickles through
There lies his kingdom, towering he stood
Leaves catching sticky sun in drops of dew

His heavy horns protrude from tangled hair
Gnarled oak knuckles, his graceful hands that bless
My lips parted in a wordless prayer
Accepted with the tenderest caress

Receiving consecration as I knelt
Commanded by his silent, blinding gaze
The sacrament slowly begins to melt
At once his lightning set my skull ablaze

My brow anointed, blessed with life aglow
Communion given so that I may know