the woman stood beneath the moon
Her voice was loud and strong
She sang out to the Universe
Her old familiar song
She sang of pain and sacrifice
She watched the dancing flame
she sang of joy and peace and love
She sang of wind and rain
She sang of death
She sang of life
Her voice was growing hoarse
She held Her vision in Her mind
and bravely held Her course
The animals gathered ’round Her
they knew Her heart was true
they trusted Her to include them
in all that She would do
She picked up Her sweet Willow branch
and held it to Her chest
She looked into Her water mirror
and knew She’d done Her best
She opened up the circle wide
and let the day begin
knowing all that would be holy
was all that She’d let in
Blessed Be
do
we
not
have
the
answers
we
don’t
even
know
the
questions
that
doesn’t
stop
humans
from
spending
their
lives
looking
for
both
feel
as
if
you
are
bursting
with
so
much
excitement
that
you
might
actually
be
blurry
because
you
don’t
believe
that
it’s
possible
for
your
body
to
hold
that
much
energy
within
the
configuration
of
your
skin
just
wondering
“Imagination is the
true magic carpet.”
–Norman Vincent Peale, American writer
Quote: Words of Art
Rethinking Life 
Written
on October 31, 2013