Ouroboros, where to begin and where to end,

The cycle is a circle, from our line of sight…

But, It is really a spiral, trust me on this,

We move in all dimensions, space and time.

  1. Is a fingernail, a scratch of light in the sky
  2. is a crescent, a scythe slashing across virgin black
  3. is a half , a pizza cutter breaking black to blue
  4. is a hump, latinised: for science is sorcery
  5. and then it is remade whole and wholesome.

The return reverses but goes in order.

So much for sequences.

Mother moon, she breeds and bleeds,

Sacred as a Goddess, primordial and primeval,

A bloated belly. A dragging sensation.

But yet this is lunacy. A scream in the night.

White light an electric fork.

Bathe me in your sweet and sacred light Lilith

Take the child I raise to your pure light.

copyright Dale Beck 2018

This is not what i wanted but it is what I have. I was trying to explore the different cultural ambiguities of the moon, which throughout time has been both pure and mad, maternal and dangerous.

I may have to come back to it when I can recast the fragments, and re-read the runes.


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