I call to wise and shining Nudd, son of noble Don
and Beli Mawr the bright, father of Gwyn and Edern
who served so well the court of the far-famed king.
Nudd of the tangled tales, the confoundment
of the years, of tongues that stumble, words gone wrong,
Nudd of the many faces and the many names,
we see you reflected in the rippled pool,
we see you in shadow, we see you in the fog,
in seamist and in smoke. I call to you, O god,
granter of blessings, upholder of tribe and kin,
for all we know of you, for all we are with you,
I thank you for your many gifts, I praise your name.

 

(I do realize that I’ve just recently written a prayer to Lludd; as a very hard polytheist, my thoughts on this are “better safe than sorry.”)

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