[31 October 2014]
Wandering the Lonesome Way
with trees, birds and Goddess_
I find the paths within that stir
my heathen fur, and break stress
down the back_ opening into Fay
the Mind that lists and will sway
at Her revelations_ I halt!
Standing in open wood stations
near the Cromlech of the Self_
imbibing revelations as I play
In the sandbox of Becoming_
there on the lonesome track,
like an Elf in the quay, where
abandonment proceeds joy … I wait!
She-Who-Is strides on ahead,
Her feet leaving tracks for us
I can smell her perfumed hair
and so, desiring Art, I forge onward—
into the Future – Her Time –
seeking the scented sequins
that are the signs of Her
having just been Here! _I revel!
Pathing along the Riverbed Way
With swans, snakes and deer_
I have lost Her within the signs
of the Wellworn Path
where She now tarries_
talking with the Faeries who sing
to bring Her my supper supplication_
And I swoon.
Journeying toward Her Hidden Lair
I gasp in the breaking air_
Poetic magick taking me down the lane
where by broken cane
She will soon repair
all that I have hastily forsaken.
Time is the Oath in which I stride,
with a new spiritual mead
to imbibe_ I soar!
[An imaginary encounter in the vestibule of Samhain; a poetic communion with Goddess and self; a playful imagining at the turnstiles of vocation and aesthetic devotion. So mote it be]