Mystical poem about the Great Work written 11-9-23
1.
Standing on my tiptoes,
The fire on that altar,
Burnt low and smoking
Reveals in mystery,
The starry night,
Miming sacred shapes
Bits of song,
Cries to the holy,
And wisps of scent
2.
I am brought low,
Broken on the wheel,
Dumbfounded and mazed
I am a penitent,
Weeping in my cup,
Aegis forgotten at my feet
I am a dame errant,
Tilting at enemies,
Only I can see
3.
Yet below and beyond,
Sprout the flowers,
Watered and fed
A brilliant garden,
Of many colors,
And bitter roots
