Thursday, October 18, 2012


The Womb of The Morning

Dark lies the sea as Diana looks down,
Gone are the children from the nearby town,
Now is the time for the darkness too reign,
Out of the light, out of truths telling pain,
The spector's of the night rise up from their graves,
Drowned sailors emerge from the sheltering caves,
The Goddess above weaves her magical spell,
And the sailors sit down to tell stories of hell,
Then as night turns to day and the moon to her bed,
The light is the victor and the darkness is dead

By Sandra Jane Mack

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