Song of the Goddess
Nov. 27th, 2010 10:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
logansrogueA poem under the cut. Disclaimer - I'm not really much of a poet. It's just something I wrote an had to share.
I am the dawn, the watery break of day.
I am the earth, hungry for the spoils of the rolling storm clouds.
I am the shoot, fresh and tender, reaching for the skies that kissed the waiting beds.
The eternity of all these things thrums in my veins.
I am a chain unbroken, a living thread that stretches back through veritable eons.
I am a speck in the great swathe of matter that hurtles about a burnished sun.
The power in my flesh is my very existence, unstoppable, unwielding.
Through thousands of years of brutal, subtle, terrible force, you could not contain us.
You could not cow us.
You could not silence our voice.
Fear lives in the hearts of the wicked, for they look at us and see the blinding silver cord that runs through all our bellies, tying us to the roots of the tree, the tree that was once a shoot.
They see their beginnings and they fear their ends, even though we bring no such thing.
I am the eternal, the love and the unforgiving eye of the truth.
Will you be the rain, the hopeful front of dark skies?
Will you be the generous water, soaking into my skin to make something new and beautiful?
Or shall you drift on and leave behind a desert,
One that will still harbour life, but still waits for your return?
I am the dawn, the watery break of day.
I am the earth, hungry for the spoils of the rolling storm clouds.
I am the shoot, fresh and tender, reaching for the skies that kissed the waiting beds.
The eternity of all these things thrums in my veins.
I am a chain unbroken, a living thread that stretches back through veritable eons.
I am a speck in the great swathe of matter that hurtles about a burnished sun.
The power in my flesh is my very existence, unstoppable, unwielding.
Through thousands of years of brutal, subtle, terrible force, you could not contain us.
You could not cow us.
You could not silence our voice.
Fear lives in the hearts of the wicked, for they look at us and see the blinding silver cord that runs through all our bellies, tying us to the roots of the tree, the tree that was once a shoot.
They see their beginnings and they fear their ends, even though we bring no such thing.
I am the eternal, the love and the unforgiving eye of the truth.
Will you be the rain, the hopeful front of dark skies?
Will you be the generous water, soaking into my skin to make something new and beautiful?
Or shall you drift on and leave behind a desert,
One that will still harbour life, but still waits for your return?
