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Rated: · Other · Fantasy · #1028083
the next portion of the work, with the seven archetypes

Do you strive for a respectability
on a wave of conscious mediocrity
and by doing so have no responsibility.
How can the human psyche be complete
when half the world is in the soul denied.
How can the human psyche be complete
when half the world is locked away inside.

Step forward my sisters,
claim the rite to be right.
I will journey with you
and as one reclaim the sight.
That here will give you freedom
to fight the sacred fight.

But we fight, not as a struggle
of anti and opposing will.
But more to recognise
the power of the human skill.

The reality of the myth,
must be lived and encouraged to grow.
In the pictures that in the consciousness will show.
How we can live?
And the truth that we can know.

What is real?
The dream.
Or the dreamer.
Is it the vision
or the visionary.
Who am I?
What is my identity?

Am I the same as I appear to be.
Am I caught in an illusion of mythology.

By an internal clock is the body awakened
and by same returned to sleep.
It can tell you when to eat, and mate,
and both the daily and yearly rituals that you keep.
By the sun in the day.
And by the moon at night.
Things are revealed,
that are usually out of sight.

The moon is her sacred symbol
And in the phases four.
Takes on the aspects of culture
and the divine femininity.
At new moon,
the virgin beauty is revealed.
And mythology has this power concealed.
At the waxing,
the body is growing with the life inside.
And the sacred power is then the only guide.
At full moon,
The woman’s power is complete.
Mythology demands that all be silent and discrete.
At the waning,
the body bent with time and tide.
Will reveal the wisdom that comes from the mythology inside.

As explorers of the unconscious realms
we hold the key to life and soul.
And if in these journeys we are sometimes distracted by the beauty
then let us explore them whole.
As the cycles of the moon and the body
mix and mingle and as one it flows.

You are fertile and being fruitful
to honour the moon mother and the secrets that only she in wisdom knows.
That you are but a flower
of eternal woman and as a woman the power it shows.


A young blushing maiden stood.
As a flower of budding womanhood.
Full of purity and full of good.
But something smoulders.
On those rounded shoulders.

And breasts of budding flowers.
A fire is in her eyes.
A passion she cannot disguise.
As her love and hate mingle so for hours.
As a flower she will bloom.
With a sensuous perfume.
Her presence will transcend the room.

The virgin in herself must reveal.
The power of the woman to think and feel.
To realise that we are all tied to natures wheel.
The woman must be aware.
Of the power of the virgin everywhere.
Knowing it is as the virgin that the beauty she must share.


When the river of life flows out.
Then sexual energy may stir.
But if it is retained within.
Greater revelations will occur.
The river of death flows to cleanse.
And in it's cleansing then set free.
The power of the creator and destroyer.
In a flowing of universal femininity.

How do you measure time?
in it's constant ebb and flow.
Through an eternal cycle
Monthly then on show.
A calendar and an astrology
come from this fertile hearth.
And every mortal is born from it
in the knowing of your path.

A hymn to Hera.
The goddess of the moon.
The giver of natural laws.
As the body.
The mind and the soul.
Are a tunnel of supernatural force.

As a keeper of the holy wells.
To let the wellspring flow.
And if in this time you can meditate
your power it can grow.

So search long and deep,
within your body and your soul.
Dive into the consciousness
and in the awareness you will be whole.

Patriarchy denies.
In it's posturing
and it's lies.
That a women with power is to be ignored.
But sister claim your right.
To see with the sight.
The power that within eternity has been stored.


An alchemical reaction.
In the joining of the two.
A magic flowing,
a power,
naked, eternal and true.
Let us face each other.

Naked as the day that we were born.
Breast to breast.
Penis to vagina.
Here a uniting power to transform.
As upper joins to upper.
And the lower connects to lower.
In an eternal yin and yang.
A universe expressed.
And a thousand echoes rang.

Tantra will be allowed to evolve.
In cosmic energies,
to then revolve.
And spin and spin.
Until the matrix of eternity
has gathered us in.

We will dance.
We will sing.
And together
we will bring.
Encounters of encounters
and the blesses of everything.

We will seek.
We will hide.
And gather the
passion we have inside.
To open channels of power
and on that power we will ride.


So simple yet complex.
is the power attributed to sex.
For from this act.
Through a simple fact.
Is the human being born.
Such power and energy,
have never flown so free.
The child within is aware.
Of the inner and outer everywhere.
All of us long to return to the womb.
And it's infinite security.

As in birth.
So it is in death.
From a darkness.
To be exposed to the light.
From a haven of divine security.
To a world of harshness and yet unlimited potentials.

Guardians of the celestial womb.
Creators of the eternal wells.
Ladies of the lake.
Cast your ever sacred spells.
As the woman becomes a mother.
And the man becomes the child.
Taking on a deeper and subtler energy of wanting to return to the womb.

From birth.
To death.
To rebirth.
Born lo live and love.
On the planet earth.
The earth is the mother.
She will nourish and protect us.
She will sustain and to spirit connect us.

All our mothers.
In every lifetime and incarnation.
Are still our mothers.
Though we have both passed on and evolved.
The mothers love has never abated.
The mothers joy in our life has never been delayed.
You are here and in your being fated.
To know the power in which we have been made.

From the body to the soul.
And the soul to the body.
Is the identity formed and known.
But you are one.
Yet all are one.
In the consciousness that has been sown.


Here is a woman.
Full of power.
In herself.
Of herself.

Revealed for the world to see and know.
Open to the mystery.
Open to the power of herstory.

Here the intuition flows.
Like it always has before.
But now a knowing.
Is to bring the truth once more.

I seek your wisdom.
I seek your counsel.
I heed your wise advice.
I will learn to trust.
The mildew and the rust.
And I will pay whatever price.

Here is ISIS.
The three in one.

Aspects of wisdom gathered.
And in each one known.
The huntress of divine wisdom.
Giving her gifts to the daughters of man.
At night.
Under moons sacred light.
Chanting and communicating.
About life and death.
And it's circumstances extenuating.

Life and journey are one.
An eternity called and a being begun.
In the life and death of the solar sun.
Then the journey is complete
and the dream has been done.

A magical death,
is here employed.
With eternal wisdom
to approach the void.
To know that life
can never be destroyed.

A mystical death,
is in turn like the seed.
Planted in the soil of life,
and in it's eternity guarantied.
To honour every time and function,
as well as purpose and need.

Kill or be killed,
is the law of the beast.
Wisdom knows that what feeds the most,
must also feed the least.


Through divine will.
The sibyl.
The muse personified.
The perfect woman.
Devoid of femaleness.
Denying self denied.

Here is the bridge.
Between the known and the not known.
Here is the pathway.
Through which eternities have been sown.

She who is beautiful.
Strangely fickle.

Deeply innocent.
and yet implacable.
This muse.
This dancer in the mind of eternity.
She who inspires the poet.
The artist.
The dreamer.

I will see her in the sacred grove.
I am her in the midst of the forest dark.
I know she is the enchantress.

But gladly I follow in the wake.
As in my consciousness she has left her mark.
As my vision changes.
So does she.
Becoming first one thing then another.
But all the power to inspire.
And then lead the key to enquire
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