The darkest blue sky so thick with veins of stars sparkling.
Fallen from the night sky it is.
It is this lapis bowl.
Crackling, popping, fire-forged.
Iron cauldron it is.
It is holding blade and blood.
Cave and womb it is.
Now the heavy sinking deep.
Pushing up the water, the well, the lake it is.
The lady rises.
She is above, and on,
reflected at this doubling place.
Here, the ethereal threshold.
The thin veil between this world and that.