Cauldron

I am the Bone Mother

I ride the Night Mare

I may be your curse

or the Shadow Self,

or the Bright Guardian

of the Gate

in any case

you

my dear

hold the key. . .

the passage from your own imprisonment

Why do you wait?

into the Dark I hold you

the cauldron is deep.

look

within

will you?

into the face of your fear.

My Crows

will pick your bones clean

clean and white

remain you will

until you see your truth

You're Mine.

naked and unborn.

not until you see your Truth

and give it wings

will you be free.

I am waiting.

Cauldron

continues . . . .

jan 24 2004 - ELM

photograph by R.MARCUS