Crimson Moon III

A crimson moon rises into the endless night.
I can hear the Earth’s voice holding my soul
like a mother holds her child.
Muffled chanting and drumming of ancient rituals travel through time,
penetrate the now.
Just like the red moon bleeds into the lake
the blood of all the yesterdays bleeds into my heart.

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~ by spasmicallyperfect on August 3, 2007.

One Response to “Crimson Moon III”

  1. Ah yes, beautiful imagery.

    Thank you Liz. This is an older piece that sat around in my ‘drafts box’ waiting for a way to end my thought. Yesterday night for some reason the words rearranged themselves to that I could say what I wanted to without explaining much more. Glad you liked it.

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