The Homing Cave

 

What I know here, 

  has become extensive. 

It has been sown, shown,

 the harvest planted, 

 The seasons reaping, 

   and the fields tall now, 

Under the harvest moon. 

What I know, 

  is from drinking of this well. 

Telepathic currents streaming through my veins now. 

So many night visions, 

   and day dreams inventing reality. 

The moon is our current. 

Our wolves howl, 

  Beckoning after the other, 

like a beacon. 

and winter is hitting again now. 

It is a well, cosmic, starborn, 

  enveloping, consuming,

Giving of life. Giving us Gaia. 

  Quenching us our thirst of love. 

Filling completely these vessels, 

With the other. 

It is long, 

 and torrid. 

Frigid and bleeding. 

It is a place between worlds. 

A homing cave, 

  I lock up, 

    as the winter approaches.