The goddess of the underworld cloaked, nude
But for sandals and jewels, receives bones
And ashes, bodies to be laid out, viewed.
Deep within the darkest of chthonic zones
She dwells and guards the rites of death and life -
Only may we learn when beneath the stones.
Though death comes by age, by rope, or by knife,
Then will she reveal what is not here taught,
Only then will she take the dead as wife.
Though loving her can be with secrets fraught,
Nevertheless we love her, darkest queen;
It is after her all our lives we've sought.
Without life there is no death, this we've seen.
This is a mystery which is plain crude.
Subtler still - death makes life: winter brings green.
No comments:
Post a Comment