Untitled
M Teresa Clayton
The night is pitch and so stands the witch
with her staff in hand, and with her stand
all the creatures of night, in the dimmest of light
illuminating the sky, each star and I.
And, I.
Who am I to those who supplicate their woes
to the Goddess moon. The cycle begins and soon,
soon she will grow full and her energy will pull
against the forces here, all truths shall appear.
Shall appear.
But now she sings and the gift that she brings
is a new beginning beyond the veil that is thinning
and allows us to see without light, what shall be
as she turns and wanes; reveals the mystical and arcane.
Mystical and arcane.
Bless us all with love, cast down from far above.
Show us path to take, grant each request we make.
Three times three, the nine that unites us with the divine.
No different, you and I, the differences some will deny.
Some will deny.
Her heart is beating and the blind are retreating
from the darkness all around, lost in the place they are found,
always seeking the light, out there in the darkest of night.
Wait for appointed hour, and the presence of her power.
The presence of her power.
Lay low if you must, hang on to what you trust,
but remember that she will open your eyes to see
the very essence of you, no matter what you do,
you cannot recriminate the truth in what only you can create.
Only you can create.
Dark moon, be our guide, forget their doubts and cast aside
the confusion in their reasoning and relentless despair.
The first shall become the last, hold them steady and fast
until your light shines and they can see the truth of this reality.
The truth of this reality.
And, I shall appear mystical and arcane.
Some will deny the presence of her power.
Only you can create the truth of this reality.
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