In The Grove

14 Mar

In the Grove
of ancient Oak,
there is a clearing
where the goddess, to me, spoke.

Where the tall emerald grasses sway,
as the winds whistle and play.
The wide shallow brook babbles,
as over precious stones it travels.

Rusalki with wet green hair,
In a circle dance.
I do stare
as in a trance.

Sitting on my chair of stone,
I know in my heart I am not alone.
On a stone chair across the table from me,
She calls my name and ask what I see.

Goddess, Mother,
I say to her.
This grove of oaks is within me,
My personal sanctuary.

She smiles and moves a chess piece,
My turn now, and move I must.
For in here I am at perfect peace,
And give to her,
perfect love, and perfect trust.

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