I can hear him calling to her.

She answered, but the calls went on most of the night. 

Perhaps he could not locate her.

She knows more than him with her dark knowledge, her intuition.

She was better equipped.

The Majesty of her being, the Mother of all that is, the Destroyer of Nothing, the Fixer, the Mender.

She was only to be feared by those who did not possess her knowledge.

This insecure one, the one without love, without imagination.

He was calling, calling for her to come to him, but she knew it was for an act of brutality.

She accepted that she must, one night soon, give up her position. 

It was the way of the Laws, the way to procreate.

But not yet…not tonight.

Let him call.

She would answer. 

But fly silently out of his reach like an idea in a dream.

(Reverence to the Owl)