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Moon Goddess
by
Theresa Cecilia Garcia
Chaos in nature
and intricate dualistic fury
reborn into spirit
In a haze of a dream
thoughts seem to move
with the cries of those who hurried forward drawn in by a magistral
spell.
The union, the sublimation of our innate mysteries
flourishes
accumulating for some centuries,
not to be cleared away in an instant .
Far-Off West
where the breath of the winds
is an incantation,
in the dusk beneath whispering trees,
secret woods ,
vallies shut in by high hills,
the sound of pouring water echoes
from a clear brook.
Sacred Nights
White Moon Rising
Awaking
Heard is the strange cry of a bird
as it rises from its nest among the reeds.
The time of transmutation has come .
Blue, White, Orange, flickering flames.
Beneath darkness, mists and shadows
kindled scents of bay, sandalwood, frankincense.
Magical tones
surging and falling.
Unearthly modulations
greet my Lady and my Lord.
Amazing circles casting
rounds within rounds
beneath the patronage of evening stars
heard rushing through air.
Enchanters
Fantastically arrayed
perform their interlude.
Workers of great and efficacious spells
by secret word and mystic dance
whirl away unending mazes
opening portals
calling on the dead ones who still live among us.
Spirit, Mother Of The Moon
Goddess Of The Night
Queen of the people who danced
on midsummer nights,
out came the clay men.
As I lay among them
she whispered to me.
She was whiter than the White Moon Rising.
Taller than the highest mountain
and her eyes shone in the dark
like burning rubies.
She told me of my promised love
and secrets that could destroy young men.
Curses for the night .
Blessings for the day .
Then she stretched out her arms
and sang to me .
Great serpents came hissing
gliding in among the trees
shooting out forked tongues.
They all came to her
covering her body whole
and she whispered and sang to them
as they writhed round and round .
The ravages of time obliterate
and I bent down in a hollow place
underneath the little wax doll
of my one true love
Held High
Held Low
laid down by My Lady .
She poured red wine into a bowl
as images bore it softly
on the scrying surface.
True Power
True Magic
lies within the heart of the witch.
Drawing Down The Moon
knowledge is imparted.
The illumination is complete.
Divine and Sacred body
filled me with white light.
Blessed Be The Lady
Blessed Be the Lord
Chaos in nature
and intricate dualistic fury
reborn into spirit.
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