Holy

Enthusiasm - the intaking of deities,
the indrinking of the Goddess,
the revelation of divinity within -
now reduced to mere excitement,
interest, or even fanaticism:
the thrilling skirl of thousands
shrieking in a higher key
than any of them can sing,
directed at the false gods and prophets
of far-away lands called holy,
Holly Wood and Silver Screen and Small Screen
and Live from New York on Saturday Night,
places you either become a god yourself
or some universally-despised monstrosity.
It is quite possible to intake the false deity
instead of some truly divine being;
in such a case, your enthusiasm becomes
- like a false pregnancy -
a hollow swelling, purely psychosomatic,
the mind telling the body what to do
because the mind is the true believer
in the deep subconscious where
we make temples for the gods
whether they are false or true.
Let us build an immune response
against these phantoms,
that we may know their pseudo-divinity
for what it is, by how
it makes us sick, nauseated,
we break out in hives
if we try to consume their
fake miracles, false prophecies,
curses in disguise as blessings,
by our inability to breathe their bad air.
Thus, when we face true
Holy Spirits, Divine Beings,
Faces of the Goddess,
we know Her and Them by
the health They bring, the joy,
the clarity of lung and sinus,
the glow of the skin,
the flow of blood,
the enthusiastic dancing of feet.
Let us inscribe new sacred spaces,
delineating a separation of the
divine from the mundane;
and let us enter consecrated ground
with bodies and minds clean, purified
with devotion, and let us receive the
Holy Spirits of the Goddesses and Gods
with the blessings of true enthusiasm,
and be full of the divinities,
our bodies inhabited however long
by beings of light and purity,
of shadow and play,
of darkness and healing;
and let us worship true gods,
be they old or new,
but let us avoid the demon, the imp,
the lying, malicious entity
who seeks only to damage, to harm;
and let us know them by their smell,
by their nauseating rank odor
that we may avoid their stinking charnel-houses
dressed in furs and clad in ivory and called temples,
to hide that they are built on decay, of rot.
Let us serve only the Goddess,
the Sun, the Moon, the Earth,
the Starry-Eyed, girdled by the Zodiac,
multi-faceted and aspected,
but always Herself;
and let us know Her by sweet fragrances
of flower and fruit and furrow,
rich with growth and life, living;
and let us lift up Her Thousand Names
in song and charm with art,
sweetly spinning from our lips like honey,
crying "Holy, Holy, Holy"
in ecstasy, standing outside of ourselves,
for we are the enthusiastic ones,
the ones who take the Goddess within,
and none are so blessed as we.