I am she who has no name
and a thousand names.
I am the Virgin, and the unicorn
sleeps in my lap; the crescent moon
bends to my bowstring.
This is my grove, my sacred grove,
my maiden bower.
Here I hunt the deathless quarry,
Here I run the restless race,
Here you may glimpse my foot
and dance with shadow.
Here you may dream.
I am she who has no face
and a thousand faces.
I am the Mother, and my belly
is big with the moon, live
with the fishes of the sea.
This is my grove, my sacred grove,
my birthing bed.
Here I ride the stag into dawn,
Here I blossom to the bee,
Here you may drench yourself in my dew
and bathe in a fountain of milk.
Here you may drink.
I am she who has no secret
and a thousand secrets.
I am the Crone, and the snake
coils round my arm; the sickle moon
lies ready to hand.
This is my grove, my sacred grove,
my burial chamber.
Here I gather my harvest,
Here I draw down the darkness,
Here you may seek me or seek to escape
and still find my gates.
Here you may die.
- The Return of the Goddess, by Elizabeth Cunningham