Solstice Dance

solstice dance 2
Through this
our longest night


the beasts of the earth

and beneath the earth

return the sun

to the queen of light


and all the hands

of the promise of spring

join the dance



Art and poetry by Clinock.

Art: Solstice Dance. 8 x 8 in. ( 20 x 20 cm). Mixed media in cradled panel.




Solstice Dance

Scan copy 2


“May the long time sun shine upon you,

All love surround you,

And the pure light within you

Guide your way on…”



However you celebrate this time of year I wish you love and peace.

The circle turns and the light is reborn,

how wonderful is that…


See you all next year.


Solstice Dance. mixed media by Clinock.



“Midwinter spring is its own season
Sempiternal though sodden towards sundown,
Suspended in time, between pole and tropic.
When the short day is brightest, with frost and fire,
The brief sun flames the ice, on pond and ditches,
In windless cold that is the heart’s heat,
Reflecting in a watery mirror
A glare that is blindness in the early afternoon.
And glow more intense than blaze of branch, or brazier,
Stirs the dumb spirit: no wind, but Pentecostal fire
In the dark time of the year. Between melting and freezing
The soul’s sap quivers. There is no earth smell
Or smell of living thing. This is the spring time
But not in time’s covenant. Now the hedgerow
Is blanched for an hour with transitory blossom
Of snow, a bloom more sudden
Than that of summer, neither budding nor fading,
Not in the scheme of generation.
Where is the summer, the unimaginable
Zero summer?”

poem: extract from Little Gidding by T. S. Eliot

Solstice. acrylic painting by clinock.

Winter Solstice

The golden child is in my heart today, touching me beyond my understanding. It is this holy seed of touch that moves my heart to sing. The perception has become the meditation; the unseen interplay of space and form; the burning line of fusion, where names dissolve and definitions are consumed by fire. This womb of immaculate co-existence magics all. Being and non-being dance the shadow play of life as planets echo themselves through the still lakes of night. All converges at the inner point of silence, the luminous dream of creation fills the world and everything that has ever come to be is reaffirmed by this renaissance of resplendent light.

(Photo and poem by Clinock). Re-Post from 2011