oh Mother..

just as the old vine soaks in the blood of the ancient war..

the new wine 

the sacred female

whose cycle is commanded by the cycles of the moon

are you aloud a place here? or are they poisoning the vine?

or are they plucking you off the vine and planting you in fertile soil?

and is not blood of Christ something to be drunk?

or does it grow in a cluster of flowers waiting to become a burnt offering.

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