Mystic Writing

October 13, 2019

“And the Wheel of the Year begins to whirl once more, whispering in the dreams of the dead visions of the Grail of Immortality.” (Shadowyn, The Crafted Cup, 99)

The veil is thinning dear one. The whispers in the crinkled bark make shivers up our spines, the days darken, and the cool mist of grey rain makes for an uproarious inner awakening. Grief in its most raw expression creeps in like black mold on an unnoticed fallen fruit. The red orange leaves cackle at the tickling Mystery with every footstep. We are grieving the fading self of yesteryear as the veil slips off of curious starlit eyes. We have entered the time of the Crone. It is time to let go of all that was and seemed to be, to make space to receive the wisdom of our anc...

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