Metaphor’s

The religion of poetry
Metaphors they
Cannot be told in the
Light of the day
The height of persuasion
And great harmony
Was the crafte of those souls
Who were born and were free

THe greatest spell weaver
Enchantress of old
Our lady of darkness
Where poets have rolled
Their eyes knowing only
What The goddess has done
With an air of enlightenment
Equal to none

The womb of the goddess
The sheath for the blade
Thats patriarchy
Their stock in trade
Akin to the animals
And the strongest male
Who claims his harem
And then hits the trail

The need always there
For the wisdom of soul
That lack of emotion
Bound up in control
thus a path to beyond
The Magickal sphere
In a cool darkly space
Not far from here
Where The palest of face
at her window maybe
With The moon in her sight
Breathing softly