The Silver Queen of the Crones

Out of the Hobbits’ Ancient Forest
Where the Enchanted trees survived,
Through a ghostly veil of mist
I could see her essence arrive.
I was struck numb by her stature
As her elegant form fast approached
Where I’d been harvesting my pasture
A surreal vision of the Queen of Crones.
I took pause to question my sanity
But I felt and heard her in my bones.
She was Amazing to behold, stunning and very very old;
Wearing silver ankle length angel’s hair
Astride a silver Clydesdale mare,
Wearing a silver cape and silver jewels,
Bearing a silver cup labeled simply “Renewal.”
“How can I pay honor to this vision”
My mind asked without spoken word
And my mind’s eye in turn then heard,
“Drink from this cup, it is the Holy Grail,
It is the Fountain of Youth,
It is the Alchemist’s Ale;
It is the drink of every dream
And it time for You to partake
So your soul can rest forever.”
And so I savored the silver stew, this
Exquisite concoction of witches’ brew;
And I joined the Universe that day.
Now I offer this cup to you.

Drink deeply, Love TB

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