Seeress’ Kiss


It takes but a touch

to know the minds of men.

If wise ways are wicked ways

than evil heart I shall have.

Knowledge brings fury

and frenzy too.

 

Tiny queens with busy hands

touch and sooth the violent volva.

 

The eyes that never open

can see many things clearly

Touched they call it

but touched by whom?

Brising’s keeper calls to me still

 

The weaver of clouds cautions me

Take only what you give

or give not at all

Gift for a Gift

Price for a price

 

Tiny queens with busy hands

dyes walnut hues into dreams

 

Pieces of patrimony

desperately scratched into stone

hope of lasting legacies

born into the bones of babes

like grand stones of immortality

to the earth we fall.

 

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