A Cycle of Gratitude – from 2016

Another year, Mother

Another Cycle of Moons gone by

I sit with head bowed

While recalling the tears, joys, fears and sorrows

With gratitude

Now

As you thin the veil once more

I peer into the space

That separates us

And see you smiling back at me

And I am overcome with gratitude for all that has been

And with hope

For all that will be

I give to you my heart

With all that it carries

And give thanks that you have made me

All

The Devil whispers quietly
in the chilly morning breeze,
My name is spoken silently
amongst the ancient trees.

In a voice so primitive,
seldom heard, more seen
by eyes that are now opened wide
by the Primitive within.

In that demon whisper
the Angels sing their praise
of long dead gods and demigogs
with long forgotten names.

I take my place among them,
these goddesses and gods,
and find myself thrown back to earth
to dwell within the common mob.

“Why, then?” I ask,
“Why, then, this great gift given?”
“Why not to join you here on earth?”
“Why not make this place Heaven?”

Silence is the answer,
save the demon whisper,
which coerces and carresses
and convinces that it’s different.

But my howling primitive
and ancient sacred soul commands;
“Away with you, both gods and devils!”
For now I understand.

Neither gods,
nor devils,
nor alchemists,
nor goddesses,
we are.

We are the Living Universe,
a greater power by far.

A Fury and a Temptress.
Creator, Lord, and Light.
Pilfering Benefactor.
Virgin Concubine.
Master and Destroyer.

And whispers of the Devil
in the chill
at the end of night.