The Witch and Her Soul

The Witch and Her Soul

Three moons shine deeply above the bed
where she lay alone, her eyes silent as ever.
While I, in my black robe, wait endlessly
until consciousness is brushed to one side.
My hands are untied by the dark Mother
who awakens to embrace me once more.

Each night I place myself upon her altar,
yielding to the Mother’s lustrous voice.
Although I cannot see her light, wet body
I lift mine higher as Witch and Soul merge.
Later, after she plants her seed inside of me,
I give her everything and more, and more.

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