Marketing
~*~.... For my GODDESS.... ~*~
....~*~ DARK MOTHER ~ * ~......
I call Her forth from darkness
Her misty visage deepening
becoming clearer, separating fog
Her tendrils of power shoot forth
and I, the darkened child
submit and accept Her in awe .
In the silence of the shell
...She whispers....
Through the hole in the dark oak
She spies
and smiles on me knowingly,
as I through deep still waters glide .
No time, no place, no single name
for She who lives within and out
In dreams of Truth she waits
and I, the darkened child
draw in her essence....
.... Oh, Mother,
thou art wise and strong;
alone, you stand united
Embrace, envelope, penetrate
Truth in mysteries, unveiled
I love Thee and honor Thee
Dark Mother…
by: Dominae
....~ * ~ Spirits of The Air (or Morrigan's Skry) ~ * ~....
Most men fear the Dark Mother.
Her's is the Final Embrace
that cannot be escaped.
Her maniac laughter
floats above every
battlefield and funeral pyre.
Her death rattle echos
in the shadowy spaces
between worlds.
Her's are the glamorous
spirits of the air,the castrating witches
devouring men's genitalia,
drinking blood,
weaving shrouds,
wandering the labyrinths
of the dead,
passing freely from
the world above
to the world below,
flying as crow,
or dragon,
raven,
or bat,
crawling as spider,
slithering as snake.
She is the Death Goddess
riding Nightmare,
swooping down topluck dying souls
and carry them
to the Land of the Dead.
Her's is the sweet
Kiss of Death,
taking the Final Breath,
and death in Her arms
can be ecstatic.
Her's is the Power
to re-birth souls,
for She is also
the Keeper of the
Sacred Fires and
Stirrer of the Cauldron,
the Vessel of Life.
She is Spirit Pruner
and Time Watcher,
destroying the old
that new life might grow.
She is the Repository
of Wisdom,
the Weaver of Dreams,
the sweet mistress
of all that florishes
in velvet nights.
Her's is the instinctual
earthy aspect of
the Feminine,
the blood that flows
between our thighs,
the primal, wordless
state of being
that connects
women to the Goddess
in Her orgiastic rites,
riding to the very edge,
throbbing,
pulsating,
flesh-tearing,
sexual abandon.
Hecate,
Kali,
Durga,
Lla-Mo,
Mictecacihuatl,
Spear-Finger,
Baba-Yaga.
She leads us down
into Darkness,
into the Nightmare Land.
But,
Darkness is also
the Womb where life begins,
for without winter stillness,
no seeds could grow,
and even in the depths
of the darkest winter night
can be felt the promiseof a warm summer breeze.
by: Nebris The Water Dragon
Post je objavljen 12.01.2007. u 14:29 sati.