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By not*about*you Date: 2007 Feb 17 Comment on this Work [[2007.02.17.11.29.17200]] |
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who is my beloved, in my poetry, you may ask... who is dear, dearest, love... --- it is what some call G-d. For me, it is I speaking to myself at times, to GÖd at others... mostly to the unknown in the expanse of time. don´t confuse me with another, reader, my mind, my heart, my spirit, my soul, is not just what is termed as puzzle. neither is it maze mound muzzle magical map. fortune readers can not read my fortune, gypsies follow me for advise, or fear me for my anger, sages stumble stalling slumber smiling silence. Warriors drink with me, thiefs laugh with me, prizes ponder prickling peeks at my eyes. Shamans sing songs slowly shifting worlds knowingly. The nameless whisper prayers for me. Crows talk to me, today the swans sang for me, the earth shakes for me, rain, snow and sun all begin and end at my command. the list is endless, there is no escaping me: who am I? neither witch, nor prophetess, neither scholar, nor muse, neither lover, nor beloved, neither nor. am i namelesss, faceless, wordless, blameless, flirting with mans mortal smile and sparkle in the eye. |