It Is Written

It Is Written

I stand, open and defenseless,
Waiting for Pluto to overpower me,
Take me where he will,
Suit me to his purpose.
Or, is that my sister Hecate
Coming to meet me,
Coming to embrace me,
To set me free?

Wondrous are the ways
of the shifty, glamour-ridden mind.
We peek out through rainbow slits
Onto a sinuous landscape.
Slippery bits of meaning slither along
Hissing out of forked tongue
Oracular riddles.
"Oh, yes, my love awaits me.
In the tall grasses we will twain.
Great fortune is to befall us.
It is written."
And rewritten, and rewritten
On and on through the fever.
Burning molecules, organic fuel,
Dancing, wildly, within a fiery pentagram,
Within channeled schematics,
Ignited by a living passion.

I am beyond words.
Tumbling through shiny bubbles
And iron-wrought hieroglyphs.
There is nothing to depend on
But pure will
And the ability
To suspend belief.