My first bit of poetry to share: The Hidden Ones

It's been a difficult meandering of thought to come to this decision, as I have always been extremely self conscious when it comes to sharing my creative work. But since much of my poetry deals with the gods and the spiritual encounters they have shared with me, and as consequence the purpose of writing them down was to creatively honor and devotionally acknowledge the forces, genius loci, and deities that have showed me so much already, it seemed wrong at the end of the day to not share my wonder of the universe with the world. I always thank Apollo for his inspiration, and to not let the result of his willingness to share just a little bit of creativity with me be shared with someone seems in part to not fully recognize and respect his gifts.

So with a leap of faith and a fear of criticism, here goes nothing!

(Shes taking the high give, shes flipping uncontrollably, and the landing is.......a mess)

This first piece I would like to share came about as the result of a meditative journey into the realm of spirit. I am not going to go into the discussion of whether or not it's the spirits playing with the images and notions already present in my mind to create such an experience, or if it's just how I was actually processing the whole shindig, because undoubtedly this piece is a paltry record of how it actually went down. But as poetry and my own words seem to be the only way to convey it, here goes nothing.

(we are not sure if her body will heal back to it's uninjured form after such a hard, unforgivable impact, but she's getting up anyway, hobbling along back to ladder, hoping to do it all over again)

by songofilluvatar

The hidden ones, those who keep the flame burning,

that washes the cosmos in holy light,

the fire of eternal creation, ever unfolding like origami,

with a message from their voices scrawled in the center

crying “Veritas”

they left the winding thread, this spiral path,

to the heart of the realm, and there I found a fool,

parading as king, ruling over a land so fair that turned black

at his Midas touch,

and I saw the labyrinth Madonna behind his throne

pointing, as if to say, here is your assignment

The target which will right the scales when arrow lodges in skull,

and so I aimed and took faith in my shot, and with shaft

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