I praise Dionysos, lord of the vine, lord of
the far reaches of the mind; in the thick of the woods,
along darkened paths, in the shadows of dusk
and of dawn, you roam the world, the satyrs
and the pretty nymphs dancing in your wake. Son of
Zeus and fair-haired Semele, bold-hearted Semele
who dared to look into the face of glory,
beautiful Semele who you carried into life
again, Semele reborn who men called Thyone;
beloved of clever Ariadne, quick-witted one
so dear to your heart, your bright-eyed bride and consort;
Dionysos, friend of women, friend of the blissful,
wild-eyed maenads, pilgrims and pioneers, those who seek
your cheer and inspiration, those who seek your release
from sorrow and despair, those who are lost in joy
and those who have found themselves in you. Dionysos,
god of the darkest dark and the deepest deep,
boundless one, endless one, fathomless one,
in you we see the edges of ourselves, in you
we find our life’s journey, in you we find our home.