This woman speaks a word
And fondles it like a baby.
This woman in the Circle
Says she is a Maiden, not a Mother.
But the voices of the many nurture
More and more like a breast,
Nursing the baby. Love swirls increases,
Beauty for eyes and compassion for a mouth,
Feeding on Mother’s milk.
The thought of this baby,
a child of She – strong and immortal.
Seeing the True Will manifest
The mirthful gaze of each thought, every word,
Brings forth unity. All joined
In love, harmony, and balance.
This child never physical yet influential
Always revered and worshiped.