Poem: The Pythia Speaks
(A completely free form work in progress. Comments welcome.)I walk the corridors,
Laurel branch in hand
Strings of dappled light
Invade the darkness
And the smoke of incense
Fills my lungs
The tripod waits
Where from my lips spill
The forgotten mysteries
Of the endless serpent
The sweet perfume ascends
From the swollen Earth
Like the vapors of a flowered brew
My young body shakes
And pulses
With the spirit of the Mother
The supplicants gape
In wonder
In horror
They don't know it is the Earth that speaks
Through me,
Her priestess
It is the Earth that quakes beneath them
And not the God of the Sun
But ancient Mother Gaia they invoke
Labels: Oracle at Delphi, Poetry, Pythia, Writings
SUBSCRIBE TO PANTHEA
Belated Beltane
