Crone calls the darkness
and then she takes you there
shows you where you can dare
To be free
To feel what you cannot see
To be what you’ve been told
You cannot be
Weird wild womoon – cunning cunt
cutting away what nurtures you not
undoing the knot
unraveling, untying, unleashing, female fury
The Crone
ha
ha
ha
ha
is not always kind
The Crone can drive you out of your mind
The Crone can unwind your sanity
Crone weighs it all in the scale of Maat
Crone tells you what to cut away
Crone will have her say
Crone calls the dying
and sends them flying
far into the unknown
to rest their weary bones
Crone creeps up on you
scares you half to death
Crone waits for your breath
to disappear
Then she takes you with her
into the darkness
that is your own
The Beautiful Crone 