Into the shadows of what was,
at that which is now but fleeting,
and through the mists of the ever changing
She gazes.

That which falls away and becomes dulled
She sees slip through our fingers,
She watches as we catch up to and move through eternity in a moment
while forever rolls in before us.

Her hand is holding ours in the canal when we enter,
She is beside us at every crossroad
and Her hand is there when the contractions of the earth's womb begin again.

As old as when the world was young
She is the passion of youth scripted in an ancient parchment.
Teacher and Mother,
Maiden and Crone,
Her wisdom is change,
Her power is times three,
and Her fullness is dark moon and peace.

March 16, 2004
Tressa Lee Breen

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