Cerridwen

Cerridwen comes to me
with sunken eyes and parchment skin
black cowled.
Thin arms outstretched

and smelling of death.

Atrocious mystery combined.
Yet her skeletal fingers hold seeds –
new potential and growth.

The depths of her shadowy eyes
burn bright
glitter with promise.
She offers me transformation.

Death – a beginning
The turning of the wheel
Urging me to taste her brew –
Awen

Written by Deep~Glade, July 2009

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