Goddess of love, Or Goddess of wrath? By what bewitchment Are you distraught, That you shelter In blackened stone, Demand sacrifice, Destruction at the altar Of what you create?
In your wake Skulls sprout From decimated orgies Like blades of grass, High priests in satanic red, Their eyes burning orbs Of an imprisoned eclipsed sun, Pronounce and postulate.
Songs of glory in high octave, Birthed by celestial fear, Madness dances endless With cymbals and incense, The divine fury Of your unbraided hair Intimidates.
He draws patterns In the virgin sand With rough hewn staff, And coaxes the waters To wash them away, Birds perch on His shoulders, Flowers give up their secrets, Bees bring him alms of honey, Muted in awe are sea serpents. Whirlpools yield ambrosia, His silence is His music, His nothingness Is His being. |