The circle is cast
& the sun turns, going round & round,
Tossing gold
beams, spun in air, upon old grainy ground,
Fire-licked &
dressed, in dawn´s lacy- rose-hemmed gown,
The day is born
& within the sky, gold is eventually found.
Lavender skies are
kissed, by the wings of passing birds,
Sun bows low to peeping
moon, with no need for words,
Luna rises, opal proud
& mantled, within milk-spun pearl,
Starred tiara upon
regal head, while heavens dance & whirl.
Day to night &
night to day & so the ritual comes & goes,
Whether it be still
& quiet, or upon the wind that blows,
The circle spinning,
cauldron stirred, the ritual of all times,
And within God´s silence
of alchemy, all existence mimes.
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