Rite of the Hermit

moon1

The Lady holds mystery

In a silent waiting orb,

Her milky white lantern

Cloaked in the darkness

Of velvet ebony night. 

Sun King gives way as

Sweet New Moon weaves

Her veil of star light,

Pulsing ebb and flow. 

Though she speaks not a word

Her call is answered deep

Within the heart that turns

To claim her hidden light. 

The Silent Moon is calling,

The rite of the Hermit has begun.

By Robin Fennelly

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