That which is sacred.
This poem is based on a dream I had a few nights ago.
(Image from Space.com.)
Mother, I feel your light.
I am a moth, drawn towards it’s glow.
Burned to ash, I am swept away,
so that my spirit may return.
Mother, I embrace you.
I lay resting in your crypt, your womb.
This body I give back for you to reuse,
so that my spirit may return.
Mother, I drink from you.
In the chalice of eternity, I drown.
Deep within your waters a rhythm begins,
so that my spirit may return.
Mother, I breathe you in.
The ecstasy of life fills my lungs.
Holy wings beat strong, bearing me forth,
so that my spirit may return.
Mother, I am your light.
By Fire, Earth, Water and Wind, I live.
I am a sacred drop in the forces of All,
my spirit has returned.
(There was a Delicate Cycnia Moth present in my dream.)
