To weave the blessed singularities of a woman
you must read her book of shadows,
when her sadnesses besiege you,
in the dying of the light,
when you are just plain terrified,
late, late at night
look deep into the blackness,
at the heart of second sight,
see yourself mirrored
in the declining of the light
in your sleeping child’s eyes
so abandon all disguise.

Rise into in this ghost-air
with tingles on your skin.
let the fullness of the day
begin.
 

Gather all you have together .
then give your life away
see the witches and the wizards of the wicca all at play
see them on the greensward
rumbling in the night
when the oak tree’s all aflicker,
and the pentangle’s aflame
in this sultry summer weather
nothing is the same.
;

The crescent moon has risen
magic’s on the march
Venus is her goddess,
Aphrodite, born of Zeus,
watches the warp and the weft
 weave the web of time
like a curvature, into this wormhole
of a closing line....

?si=iWwPx4tc6SfzKGfL