The crone

Verse 1

You called me faded.

I called it dawn.

You counted birthdays.

I gathered wisdom.

You measured beauty

In unbroken skin.

I learned the body

Is where the soul begins.

Pre-Chorus

Don’t mistake my quiet

For surrender or retreat.

Roots don’t need permission

To grow beneath your feet.

Chorus

I am the Crone.

Keeper of the stories.

Guardian of the flame.

I wear silver like a promise,

Not an apology.

I have traded certainty

For wisdom born of night.

Call me old…

I call it vision.

Verse 2

I know the names of sorrow.

I know the weight of grace.

I know when silence heals more deeply

Than another race to save face.

I have learned that every ending

Carries one unopened door.

The woman who feared becoming me…

Lives here no more.

Bridge

Come sit beside my fire.

Not to worship.

Not to follow.

But to remember…

Every maiden,

Every mother,

Is already walking toward

The Crone.

Final Chorus

I am the Crone.

Not an ending.

Not an echo.

But the keeper of the fire

That lights the way home.