She wears fine cloth made from star dust
Sheer and fine
Jewels hang like tears from the edges of her gown
The moon is high and beckoning for her recognition
For this is a time of harvest and the wolves are howling their knowing
Hold tight child in womb all will soon be shown to you
Life returns to dust
As lovers can not agree to let love just be
The light of source is touching the spirit
Making us feel strong
Binding all that is together in its natural rhythm
Drums sound and smoke rises
Lady of this magical night stands forth and offers herself
To the great creator
Creator of distruction as much as creator of spirit
As both are of the same
Bathe in moon lit rivers and spend time with soul
Tomorrow we will hunt and break bread with fools