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A Tale Of Eternal Memory
Chapter Eleven.
I see the memory of a sleeping child, rosy cheeks and tussled blonde locks accentuating her angelic face, which radiates with the pure light of innocence and serenity.
She sleeps in the comfort of security, with an unshakable trust in the Goddess who brought her into this imperfect world.
I see her as a miniature reflection of she who speaks to my Soul.
She is the Mother, and she is the spirit of rebirth.
I perceive her heavenly adorned countenance as an archetype of the waxing spring tide, when the quickening occurs and new buds and shoots rise from her fertile womb, that a barren land might reawaken unto new life.
Her sacrifice of maidenhood, to bear the fruit that shall sustain a shadowed future is superlative in its sacredness.
In the center of her...
I see the memory of a sleeping child, rosy cheeks and tussled blonde locks accentuating her angelic face, which radiates with the pure light of innocence and serenity.
She sleeps in the comfort of security, with an unshakable trust in the Goddess who brought her into this imperfect world.
I see her as a miniature reflection of she who speaks to my Soul.
She is the Mother, and she is the spirit of rebirth.
I perceive her heavenly adorned countenance as an archetype of the waxing spring tide, when the quickening occurs and new buds and shoots rise from her fertile womb, that a barren land might reawaken unto new life.
Her sacrifice of maidenhood, to bear the fruit that shall sustain a shadowed future is superlative in its sacredness.
In the center of her...
