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Snow Moon over North Hill by Cindy Schreiner

The Golden Crone: The Watcher’s Eye

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The Watcher’s Eye

My eyes are lenses of The Watcher. They do not judge, just observe.

My reptilian brain acts for my protection. That’s the bit that bites.

My body follows bliss. Feed me, feel me, or leave me alone.

There is a mushroom in my cranium working damn hard, and failing, to make it all make sense.

I am Divine. And I am Dust.

And so. Are. You..

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