That which chains us in this maze
Lies untold, unbared, in the dark,
Secrets shared unspoken and non-
Ultimate as constructs, strict only
Within recognition of no more than
The links that bind, invisible.
To defy, to turn from the hands
That once fed, later held back,
Is the goal confused, subsumed
Slowly in feeling, tactile motions
Moving one from the maze outward
Into the- back -arching spaces beyond.
The mad whirl of planets and macrocosm
To microcosm, spindizzy twirl and soar;
Glazed, the eyes have it, hazy and open to
See the roaring tumult of multi-faceted
Lines of distraction, routes of refraction
Expressed in forceless motion, colour
Without significance besides aesthetic,
Blissful deafness rocking abides all about
Gold days brooding over dank green
Forests with skies the colour greyed
From out their spirits when furrowed
In days past where long where sung
The praises of the gold, and how
It would some day finally…SET.
By flickering light the priestess sings,
Belly taut with the nutrition collected
From spilt blood of martyrs, on an altar
Kept and to harsh flaming fyre set, eyes
Rolling to demonic motions rhythm wrapped.
On flows ebb and tide of dank shores
Without name, wished for watchers or
Gods for whom thrones were once homes,
Leaving all this dark majesty to one
Witness, one arcane and unholy witch.
The god or gods to which she speaks
Her prayers are unknown to all but
Those to whom dreaded knowledge stores
Are no more than summer reading,
Hell dreams acted in her infernal pursuits.
Of what dark god dost thou chant
So fiercely, voice a quivering hum,
Equipoise balance in tone, stars
Frozen in orbit to hear thy call
To some enigmatic godly deity…
Libations poured as the dusk bears
Blood stained sky witness, orange
Streaks lighting more when higher
Rises the chant, boxes kept like
Portals to other worlds seen in
Beside turgid rivers ebbs and flows
The tide of visitors from other worlds
To see who or what mayst answer
The call of this priestess and her
Unwavering, indomitable alliance.
Neither by casual request nor
Imperial order will it be ended,
Always present, ever alert for
A chance to shine, burn eternal.
Paramours may come and go, yet
Forever shall it shine on, burning
Thing without real tangible end
Or beginning to be fairly found.
What dares to fill the void?
Travelling caravan of nervous noise
Creeping over space, tenuous connection
Without end, a start poorly defined
Yet still no less the broad thing,
Creature of burning cold blossoms
Spreading along each line, blind.