To what Primal Power

To what Primal Power do I owe my dues?
'Tis the Power of the mystic tri-Goddess so true
Of the Maiden Mother Crone modern times it little knows
Yet she was the original theme of poetry
Her troubadours opening for to see the Matrix
Not the celluloid one
That links us up where we come from
Kings and Queens and Bards in People
From the place where all is equal
And who though wars now rend us apart
Is still the lone subject of this art.
Bequeather of Kings behind all things
Enveloping all in her charms of ice and fire
Elusive ever present earth mother Gaia
Knower of men's minds
Bestower well inclined to nurture and to chide
Hear her call inside your ear
No fear is so opaque as to obcure her
There is no cure for her love
She will get you eventually
Though you may reject her
Have no names for her
Or only those to revile
She all the while
Made you from clay
Gave you life and days
Raised you
Played with you
With some horn-led consort tangled and met
Till this world was set
Now you can't forget
She spoke in the ear of those Dragon Kings of old
And so this story will unfold