At my feet is a maiden moon, golden crescent, my watery robes pooling around it. I am luminous reflection in the water, mysteries of the deep. I draw from my bottomless well, from the infinite soup beyond black/white, good/evil. I am a wisdom keeper and yes I’ve studied your holy books and I see the truth just glimmering down deep beneath the scribbling frantic pens of frightened men. I bring the resonance; you feel it in my voice.
I am the triple moon Goddess: Maiden/Mother/Crone. I am the place where the stars connect, become constellations. Do you see this curtain behind me, the veil between worlds? I can pull it back for you but only as far as you’re willing to see. I cannot hand you the visions. I can merely accompany you to the underworld, holding the flame, deep into the quiet, the turning, the soil.
I make my home in the roots of trees, in the lightless bottom of the ocean, in the mountain crags, on any precipice. They call me Virgin but let me set the record straight: virgin means whole and complete unto oneself. Purely, wholly, integrated. I am a loner by habit and people travel over the sandy roads from miles and mountains to seek my counsel.
I am the eye of two worlds; I am the infinite space between atoms. My presence is liberating and commands respect. You mustn’t bow–I am no higher or greater than you–but do not dare to underestimate my power, the very same power I am committed to awakening in you. I am here to lead you into your own inner wilderland.
Will you trust your instincts? Will you suck on the bright bursts of pomegranate seeds, which give you flashes of insight, disallowing your forgetting your own rich and sacred shadowland?