ancient hymns of dafree whitewolfe – v (weaving the tapestry)


your whet lips –  the third psalm of  dafree whitewolfe

(to the Muse of muses)

“In his anger, God distributes sorrow…”

                                -Job 21.17

 whetlips1

how many are the angry goddes within

how many ghosts eager to be set free

how many the chorus of tormentors

 

ten thousand marauders shrieking as one

 

but you Beloved stand upon their heads

 

in my right hand i bear your silver shield

in my left hand i wield your golden sword

i ride within a chariot of fire

 

a warrior of the order of the rose

 

i slay these madde goddes with my left hand

 

i lift your sacred horn to my chaste lips

your stillness rolls down from snowy mountains

condemning my wailing sorrows to sleep

in silence the ten thousand rest in peace

 

facets of the diamond within the rose

 

i rise from kneeling and you embrace me

those toothless goddes shine bootlessly beyond

broken oaths twisted into poetry

whetlips2

i find redemption kissing your whet lips

amidst snowflakes falling on midnight cedars

 

mark christopher valentine

(© february 1, 2004)

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