Hungry Wounds

As below, so above.
Ubiquitous disarray.
Cavernous bestial rumble, inchoate roar.
Oceanic anger bleeds from broken clouds.
Drowning griefs rage over centuries
under pummel of evil fist.
Not the shining world promised in
Golden Books of yore.
Safe in childhood Eden
eating succulent fruit as
Uncle Serpent bade me.
Old stories ever retwisted.
Seasons sing their litany.
Condensed emotion
forms new identities;
gentle rain cleanse
refreshes, exposes
fertile soil,
more nutritious meteorological mix.
Purified of ravenous sins.
Holy Sister, heal me!
Demand what ye will.
Demand and take your fill, oh Goddess.
None may resist Your epic Glory.
All the stories are clear on this one point.
We who rejoice, who bare our core,
romp naked under midnight’s Moon,
reflecting upon Your stunning beauty,
reject Overlords, unsuitable suitors
for Your hand.
We who see through Your modest veil,
sing praises,
escape into that splendid vestibule
Your grace provides
for all your brides and maids.
Feeding the ghosts on Your wedding days,
ill master’s desolate land.

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