I wrote it before
And it was written before I wrote it
And it was known before I knew it,
So the wisdom is not mine to claim.
Nevertheless I will convey the threads as faithfully as can an adherent
Who in some ways is no more than one newly initiated:
Knowledge, wisdom, process can be a blessing and a curse.
This is no mistake.
As far back as our herstories can remember,
Be She Baba Yaga
Hulda, Hecate
Or even Sleeping Beauties more diminutive 13 Faerie Godmothers
The dual natured goddess has been
In her Wisdom,
As it please her.
Woman herself is the cauldron of life
From her Source, from her all seeing Yoneye
Proceeds fates threads of which
She is both spinner and weaver.
As it is so,
She is Wise Who keeps her own blood sacred
And Who does not mistakenly seek as sacred the distaff of others.
She is Wise Who is wary
Of her own true urge to be resplendent in just such covetous finery
And the beautiful friction caused
When occupying one’s imaginations in such a fashion.
It takes practice to not tangle such a web
And if one lacks discernment,
Surely duplicitous enchantment will follow
As to suck the life from one’s soul
If one stares to intently into the Chasm from where it was borne.
She is Beauty and she is Wise.
She is the Thunder who is in our entire DNA;
Sophia is her name.
And whether philosopher or not,
All those who are wise love Her
And know the propensity for knowledge
to be turned into insipid, damaging, fearmongering facts,
Which is what explains
And why those who identify with Them
Are still cast out as otherworldly
And thus misunderstood:
They weave with a thread
That can just as easily bring chaos
As it can creation.
And may those who do not understand
Call us Weird.
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