Each year I feel closer to this Crone, with most of my physical life behind me and most of my spiritual life spread ahead of me. The Crone who plants the seeds that are dormant under the winter's snow and then, when the earth stirs from it's slumber, they send out roots and shoots and grow, first into the maiden then the mother and finally the Crone. Each generation of Crones who pass on the seeds of knowledge and wonder. She is winter, when nothing appears to be growing, though below the ground the roots are reaching out and making a strong platform for the new green growth of Spring.
With the final celebration of the harvests bounty over, and the first snowfall of the season upon us, it's time to look forward to the stillness of winter, nature is reduced to the essentials. A good time to reconnect with our roots, and look forward. Tell old stories and make new plans.
The Crone !
"I am the silence of midnight, and black velvet skies.
I am the shadow of vision that tempers your eyes.
I am the darkness of secrets that draw the veil thin,...
The coldness of winter that shakes on your skin.
"I am the silence of midnight, and black velvet skies.
I am the shadow of vision that tempers your eyes.
I am the darkness of secrets that draw the veil thin,...
The coldness of winter that shakes on your skin.
I am Grandmother, Weaver, Enchantress and Crone.
The knowledge of Justice that strikes at the bone.
Destruction is mine when its time comes to be:
Death to the living, who all come to me.
Mine is the hand of the spinning of fates.
Mine is the passage between life's fragile gates.
I am the giver of magickal sight,
The slight sliver of waning moonlight.
I am the branch of ageless worn trees.
Hear my voice and know me !
I am the Raven that flies through the woods,
Black silken wings opened up to the sky !
Bearer of closure, competition, and truth
Dreamscapes and Banshee am I !
Mine is the wisdom that comes in the dark.
Mine is the dying that calls to your flesh.
Mine are the hidden remains of your heart.
Mine is the mist that will take your last breath.
Give unto me what is old and outworn,
And I will return it with new life reborn.
Give me your sorrows, your sadness, your grief.
And in the dark hour, I will give thee relief !
I am the giver of death and rebirth,
Mine are the last things, before they are first.
See me in the shadows, and in the dark sea.
I am the Crone !
Hear my voice and know me!"
Author Unknown
Borrowed from: Claudia Andate
The knowledge of Justice that strikes at the bone.
Destruction is mine when its time comes to be:
Death to the living, who all come to me.
Mine is the hand of the spinning of fates.
Mine is the passage between life's fragile gates.
I am the giver of magickal sight,
The slight sliver of waning moonlight.
I am the branch of ageless worn trees.
Hear my voice and know me !
I am the Raven that flies through the woods,
Black silken wings opened up to the sky !
Bearer of closure, competition, and truth
Dreamscapes and Banshee am I !
Mine is the wisdom that comes in the dark.
Mine is the dying that calls to your flesh.
Mine are the hidden remains of your heart.
Mine is the mist that will take your last breath.
Give unto me what is old and outworn,
And I will return it with new life reborn.
Give me your sorrows, your sadness, your grief.
And in the dark hour, I will give thee relief !
I am the giver of death and rebirth,
Mine are the last things, before they are first.
See me in the shadows, and in the dark sea.
I am the Crone !
Hear my voice and know me!"
Author Unknown
Borrowed from: Claudia Andate
