Cycling Crescent

I am the moon puzzle, One in Myself,

sickle handle turning the full cycle.

I Am fragile, enduring, ever-changing,

open, receptive,

twin-horned, empty and full,

balanced dark and light, life and death.

My milky cow horns drip with plenty,

starry foam, the Milky Way.

I am the gentle cradle lap of life,

rocking the dark moon's womb,

gestating harmony.

I set into the embrace of earth and sea and dark,

waning, descending, surrendering,

visiting, cycling, reuniting,

making New, making Whole: I rise again.

My silver bow, a sliver

slips into the welcoming embrace

of the dark moon's arms.

Whole in My potential, triumphant,

fertilized by dark, pregnant with light,

I return waxing, emerging crescent crèche,

womb-carrying Kali's nurturing night,

to gestate whumban life

for nine months growing.

With open arms, I embrace:

death/new life, decay/new growth.

Virgin, Mother, Crone,

mask, mirror, shadow,

I disappear, and seem to die;

yet I Am the certainty of Renewal!

© Tamara Rasmussen 2018