Mother

To be a woman. And the power of creation in the womb.

We are made of moon, magic and blood.
Every month, every cycle. The magic of the moon.
A priestess who carries in the womb
the creative fire.
A Goddess by herself.

I speak of her when I call “god”.

When we cum,
We carry energy within.
We become home
The power of the feminine to be a mother.
Mother of what we choose to nurture
An idea.
A feeling.
A being.
We partake, from ourselves,
Life itself. Out of love.

Love
The greatest act of courage.
The mystery
Hidden beneath our pubic hair.
And it’s self love
That gives power to the witches.

My mom taught me.

“Take a little piece of me,” she said to me,
“this is yours and from that, you can do whatever you want.”

Because the mother’s greatest happiness is that her creation
Live. Live a lot, live everything, live
Free.
And,
as so,
turns into what it is.

Deep, in our womb, the creative fire.

Nothing greater than her,
She who knows the power she has.