Our Daughters Pull Stars from the Sky
Universes from Oceans Depths
She cuts Reeds from Nubian Nile Ready to craft The Holy Papyrus Scrolls summoning Life from desiccated Forms.
Call Forth the Hebrew Prince of Egypt. Performing sacred rites while reciting from Holy Scrolls.
Within each ruminations of Her and she employing that speckled eye Language to clean out ragged rustic dreams. A not so pampered She Wolf Guided by Arboreal Voices
One day a witch the next an Oracle.
Reeds for Stylus
Every hexagon honeycomb a container of worlds.
Oh Queens of Civilizations lost to time and Memory. Beseeching the Breakers of bonds. Destroyer of Delusion.
Upon being dropped from great heights through cumulus formations nearly succumbing to the lowest of Depths.
Our Wings were made stronger enabling us to Fly.
Some Flew while others took Refuge in Caves only to be impaled by stalagmites and stalagtites. Their corpses a horrendous warning to cocky explorers who fail to heed Voices of the doomed.
The Grandmother Clock bellowed in pain filled prayers.
Creeping Vines weaving out moss carpet roads giving directions to frantic minds. Covering Spaces while mending broken Places.