MOTHER OF TIME

Time is a Mother
Her hands caress the smoothness of youth
Into wrinkles of Knowing

The Maiden Journey
On a clumsy raft built for drifting
Winnowed to smooth seacraft
By raging seas and dark waters

Motherhood is all manner of nurture
It is for She Who Fights
Battles for those of her and around her
Warriors of The Blood

The Crone has arrived
Her creases her warpaint
Dried tears and scars of wars won and lost
She is the Mother of Time

Bronze
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