Moonpaths open before me,
daughter of the Moon;
She rises as I walk,
these glittering strands
woven from
life and blood,
magick and sleep,
bound by silver light.
I am born of water,
borne on air,
wrapped in spirit and
shadow and mist.
Dream-like, this place -
this path that leads
to her womb, to silent rest.
Intuition guides, leading -
take each step knowing
not where it goes, but
simply
that it does.
Down the spiral,
farther into this no-time,
I walk - the Void is waiting.

Still She rises,
full and white.

She smiles,
Sacred Mother's face;
I return to Her,
sinking,
black womb
entwined in tendrils
of glowing night.
Here is a dark heart
where ravens sleep,
where things begin and end.
Moonpaths open before me,
daughter of the Moon,
and I am come home,
as She rises.