The Moon rises, still golden from the company of The Sun. She rises to Her own glory, silver and severe. The tides rise and fall in Her honor. The Earth may even tremble. Her sacred plants and animals awaken from their slumber.

In Her light the shadows are darker, so we must tread slower. Time enough to reflect. In the silence of the night, the Guardians voice rings clear. Suddenly brighter, The Moon sinks again towards the Sun, taking again that golden hue. For a short time, the Sun and Moon will share the sky, facing each other in perfect balance. Time seems to stand still.

She will appear again, and time will have changed Her. No longer in the fullness of The Mother, She will be The Crone and Diana The Huntress. She will even appear in the sky, high during the day, when we are rushing about our business, not giving Her a thought. But again She will come, in her realm of the night, met with joy by all faiths and all Peoples equally.

Blessed Be.

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