Do you see him? There
From the high tower with a torch in hand?
What does he say in his deep, tender voice?
The torch falling from his outstretched hand,
‘Oh, I will be the One who will create your god!
The fires howling around me, rising flames
a huge quarreling of red eagles flying through
the black and swirling smoke and wind
The god melts gold that flows around my
marble body, a blazing splendor and ardor
silken short shivers bursting and all the
the dying demons sing to the flaming
having understood that he is the One; he
is my god; my cries singing into the air
my hurricane soul rising, resigning
And he, proud god, over me the crossed
arms of a king, his glancing eye opening up the
sky reaching the furnace of all Light
whispering prayers, my own prayerful
Being: Has ever a woman died from singing?
Refusing my sacrifice, he assured me
without difficulty that it was
all just a mischief and artifice used to
strip my pride of its lies.
©Ionwhite


Poignant read….and you left us all wondering….who is THE GOD.. and I’m not asking you to answer…I think the mystery and that not being answered is something I need to learn from in my writing.. SOMETIMES THE POWER IS THE GRIP IS NOT KNOWING THE ANSWERS.
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Thank you for your comment. Yes.. often we write to discover God in Us I’m pretty sure
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The huge quarreling of red eagles made me think of William Blake. Excellent image. Thank you for the pleasure of reading this.
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You are well read.. thank you so much that’s a wonderful comparison.
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