Her words are my ointment
bring out her prophecies
those secret things are revealed
in the song of her lips

by day the muse creates her form
and echoes in the hallowed chambers
into the ears she hears
and proclaims from the mouth

what soothing sounds
a Gospel of joy
transfixed possibility
hope obsessed into faith

Has it been as it always was
in that Eden of great beauty?

Before symbols
and myth
and seekers of self

Before Spirit was lost
and Soul was forgotten
before Heart was abandoned
and flesh was embraced

She sang and played and danced
in her graces
She moved and floated and giggled
in her innocence
She loved what she saw and felt and desired
in her wishing well

And still she is to me
this first one of perfection
from me
before, and now and again forever

abiding in peace she does
enhancing bliss she creates
Young and Mature and Ancient
All three she is
the remembrance

Her words are my soothing ease
from war and wind and turbulent man
Bring out her prophecies
into my secret temple

By this fire in the forest
alone the forgotten path
to the hidden lake
where all who wash are clean

We lay in rest
with the pleasure of gifts given
and drink the waters of life
to trump the sound
of our experience

The desire of her heart
is the passage to our garden.

Ryan o0o