Words from a Dream Visitor…
The crone cradles her cauldron with care and precision. Inside is held the mysteries yet untold and the transformative powers of death. She wears a bone mask from the head of a bird, a black cape covers her, so that the bird mask appears to dance about in the darkness.
She peers into the depth of the cauldron, a liquid brew of past, present and future. The glimmer of moonlight shimmers across the darkness held within. She leans in with her bird skull and begins to drink up the mysteries brewing there. She is drinking in the mysteries to become a vessel. Her womb no longer bleeds and the seeds of life, have all been washed away on rivers of blood and moonlight. Now she is left with darkness, and emptiness. Emptiness from the children she has raised, who now live their own lives. Emptiness staring down at her as the last phase of her life takes shape from the creative potential of darkness.
She is thirsty for what remains of her life and drinks up the mystery inside her. There are stories held there of experience and wisdom, presence and passion, courageous destroying and tender creating. She travels her inner worlds with ease and her journeys take her on paths of power, where she finds the cauldron of death and birth bubbling over with sorrow and laughter. She is able to drink it all in.
Valley Reed Copyright 2017