The cradle of the moon holds my essence
Ever so gently
The pale light surrounds my heart
And this ever increasing knowing of strength
Enfolds me as I dissolve into the pale light
Yet this wet golden cup holds this wet goldness
I have become
As the clouds drift across the moon’s face
No matter
For I find the clouds hold me just as safely
Waiting there below as the moon tips
And I slide noiselessly from the crescent womb
The golden luminosity coalesces
As this, what I call I
And as the beauty of love infuses each new awakening
So I rise again
Fashioned lovingly by the pale golden light