Sword And Mirror |
| Naked and proud she faces the altar. |
| 'Midst fragrant oils and fruit she worships |
| so the goddess is served through the temple. |
| Nothing exists but the truth of her coming. |
| Uplifted by faith, compelled by simple truths, |
| she annoints herself with the unguents |
| of her divine mistress. A simple ritual |
| to the eye, yet a practice as old as time. |
| The sword lies 'cross the mirror. |
| A bridge to another reality, its blade |
| reflects the glow of the shimmering glass. |
| Who is this woman on the other side? |
| Nothing exists but the truth of her arrival. |
| She feels the flow of strength through her own fingers. |
| Her skin, her hair, her eyes... |
| they take on mystical shades of silvery lilac, |
| an ethereal envelope of light. |
| The sword sinks through the mirror. |
| She rises from her knees to stare |
| at her own image. The tending of the temple |
| brings forth inner power-- the goddess grasps |
| the sword. In a blinding moment |
| she is consumed. |
| Nothing matters but the truth of her existence. |
| The sword is in her hand! |
| ©LJ Grandstaff 10/99 |
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