Marc Creamore

The Queen Of The Night

I stretch my arms to the scented candle of the moon,
hear the echo of a voice that leads me
to the sometimes forgotten pond of my mind
where I am comforted by the ripening voices
of the owl and the tree frog.

Oh daughters of lunar reverie, oh maidens
of spirituality’s often ignored womb...
come bless me this night with the essence

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