The Maiden, The Mother, The Crone

The room begins to darken,
No, it is not dusk.
For even now, I hear the cock stirring atop his post.
They tell me the candles burn bright as the Sun at high noon;
Yet, their light seems to me as dull as my hair that once shone like gold,
and is now gray as the storm clouds of the sea.
Faces fade in and out of my weakening vision:
Faces of my childhood,
Faces of those I loved.
My clawlike hand grips another's tightly,
A hand smooth and soft as mine once was.
Flicker, flicker, flicker, flicker,
I blink. And see a beautiful girl-child holding my hand.
Her skin is smooth to the touch,
And laughter sparkles in Her emerald eyes.
Her long, silky hair cascades down Her back in loose waves,
And a wreath spun of spring buds adorns Her untroubled brow,
Her slim form, barely beginning to ripen into womanhood,
Reminds me of my youth.
She smiles gently, And whispers a word.
Maiden.
Flicker, flicker, flicker, flicker,
I blink,
And see a woman.
Her steady hazel eyes comfort me.
The laugh lines around Her eyes and mouth are clear and beautiful.
Her thick hair is bound in a braid,
And a circlet of gold rests upon Her brow.
Her rounded belly reveals the life nestled inside.
She bends close to me,
And places Her smooth lips on my withered cheek.
She whispers. Mother.
Flicker, flicker, flicker, flicker,
I blink,
And see a face all to like my own:
Her cheeks are hollow and Her skin withered.
She leans upon a great staff,
Her clawlike hands grasping it as if it were life itself.
Her eyes burn with a gentle intesity,
And as I gaze into them,
I see the Wise Woman,
She gestures, And whispers.
Crone.
Flicker, flicker, flicker, flicker,
I blink,
And see Them. The Three.
Maiden. Mother. Crone.
The Three who are One.
As one, They beckon me;
And I feel my spirit stir in response.
The maiden whispers,
Come with us Mother.
The Mother whispers,
Join your companions, sister.
The Crone whispers,
Do not be afraid, my daughter.
I sigh and close my eyes.
My soul rises and greets the Three.
And upon each of Their brows,
The crescent blazes,
And I know that it burns upon my brow as well.
Flicker, flicker, flicker, flicker