Cauldron

Cauldron

A poem I wrote over two decades ago during my Bardic phase (as it is called in Celtic Druid Tradition): Cauldron

forged without calculation
reverberating with eternal essence, the lifeforce
brewing namelessly under the nostrils, purifying recognition
some thoughtbare combination, a tasty transformation
within a witch's cauldron, over colorless flames darkly
simmering a stew of primeval mysteries
including everything, yet nothing yet
percolating in silence, an utterly female science
patiently pivoting tongs stirring that connection
deliciously delightful
singly unique
sustaining completely, from the timeless time to come
turning history
without equivocation