I must decrease so HE may increase





Each year upon the Summer Solstice day,
Bonfires flame on many a mountain crest,
And young folks jump across the logs, - hurray!
To celebrate Saint John the Baptist’s fest.

Whose cup was brim full of uncertainty,
Success he could not reap, but failure's void,
No breast to lean against contentedly,
He tasted discomfiture unalloyed!.

To meet death as the Prophet Simeon,
Is sweet,- for he perceived with clarity
That he did touch and hold in arms God’s son,-
God's Herald only knew uncertainty.

John knew not that his mission did succeed,-
He thought he'd failed and vainly sacrificed,
Saw his exalted mission a defeat-
Without assurance his disciple was the Christ.

That was to come to ransom Israel,
But nagging doubt did torture and prevail,
As with the heroes that once fought and fell,
Whose saddening destinies the bards bewail.

Beyond, oh far beyond is fixed his gaze,-
His countenance is preternatural,
He gives Him room, and moves aside with grace,
His earthly needs and wants are minimal.

John’s cup was empty, empty, all poured out,
Assurance, counsel was not given him,
True hero destiny that die in doubt,
Whose cup is sorrow filled unto the brim!.

His life and sacrifice illusory,-
He rested not upon the Savior’s breast,
Like John beloved in sweet serenity,
No breast for him to lean against and rest.

But Silence, silence only- no report
To his big question if his student be
Messiah promised, - no assuring word,-
While dread increased with dull uncertainty.

Career frustrated, grief and bitterness,
Chained to a block, from his disciples barred,
His stars extinct, the skies impervious,
What anguish for the Prophet's ardent heart heart!.

His end came with an ugly suddenness,
Fox Antipas feared a rebellion-
Beheading,- death unceremonious,
Awaited the great Prophet Baptist John.



And without comfort fell the Baptist’s head,
His death horrific, desolate and gory,
Untidy job, - blunt was the henchman’s blade,
And blows repeated ere he entered glory.

Bards sing a worthy song of praise for him,
And those that cannot revel in proud quest,-
And bask, but have the heart of Seraphim,-
The Summer Solstice is John Baptist’s fest.



Bonfire logs on Hilltops flamer and singe
June 24th - for him whose speech was rough,
The days decline, and nature feels a twinge,
And bows to John in reverence, awe and love.

A charismatic figure John does stand,
As visionary mystic so alone,
Between the Old and the New Testament,
Hail Seraph, Prophet, Herald, Baptist John!

© Elizabeth Dandy

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On St. John's Eve the Dowsers look for the curative St. John's Wort with the dowsing rod, beating the ground searching for the precious medicinal root.