Enwrapped In Her

These secret silent stillnessess, wistful wispy whisperings which enter through the windows in my heart, I try to softly touch them and they recede, far, so far away, I try to gently hold them they slip beyond my grasp, and so, I let them be as you and I must be as one, and they will come, they’ll creep into my day dreams, and I shall quietly weep for joy, . . . and though the night may bring its sorrows, and though the hawk may stalk the dove and though we dread our sad tomorrows, yet joy will come unbidden, and bring abundant love, and with the dawn when gone the pale, wan moon-faced night and all the swirling winking twinkling stars the radiant sun-shine bright opened up my eyes, to see anew within the daylight’s brightest light those self-same incandescent spangled stars, and opened up my ears to hear a new harmonic song, sky-lark, ascending off the meadow, O bright, O blessed be. Now she at last has come again to me, my nature nymph is here up from the depths, out of the heaving sea to steal across the jagged shore-line and settle on the sun drenched beach where all my footprints in the sand formed a golden band and all becomes complete with wonder-women beating out the beat to merry, merry meet, and I will glide along amongst the gathering throng, and I will sing a goddess song, I’ll travel up and all along the sea of glass to meet the phantom lights upon The Tor, this thrill, this that I’ve waited for down all my days, and now I dance sky clad, no thoughts of good nor bad, and all along no right or wrong, here in the Chalice Garden sweet my heart steps up its beat rising from the ruins I once was, and in the garden fair I run my fingers through her sea salt hair, so no one else can see we hide behind an apple laden tree. When I began to see I saw with bitter sweet a harlot crouching on a cobbled street weeping quietly, crying secretly into the tear wet sleeves of her patchwork tattered garment, unrecognised is she by those whose eyes are blind and cannot truly see, . . . she is the lovely Magdalene who murmurs in the secret chamber of my heart “my dearest dear, from long before your mortal birth I’ve loved you from the start,” and since she came to make her home in me I have become full whole and free, unbound, uncaged, not ever more as separate or apart. She is the woman half of me all that I ever want to be, her jet-black tresses captured me, her swan down skin enraptured me, her lilting laughter healed my deepest inmost soul. Now look you to your hearth my friend her cauldron’s on the boil, she’s stirring up her brew a magic making midnight herbal stew. Creatrix, maker, non-forsaker, the olden stones will show the awesome and expanding primal proof, the woman womb, ‘tis time to know the penetrating truth, maiden, mother, wise old crone, The Ancient Mother Goddess, central marrow bone.