Crone the Destroyer
Wise Goddess
Creatrix
Heal me of illness
Transform all my defects.
Make me moist ground for the Mother to till,
Growing & fruitful for doing Our Will.
Then I be Maid again
Fresh & anew
Flowering sweetly with bees & the dew.
Then to fall & be fruited,
To rot and be seed,
Born again, born again,
Riggidy jig.
1 comment:
As always, I love your words (and you).
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