I am moving into myth
leaving no footprints as I pass
nor tracks so large
their enormity
obscures them.

I will be like Odin
draped in blue and walking,
or Jesus at Emmaus -
perfect within myself
but still elusive.

I am rippling water,
wind's sleight of hand.
I'll throw my voice
and the earth itself
will breathe my name.

I am the holy golden apple,
a face revealed in stone,
a temple demon.
I am the one you didn't know
you prayed to --

a blazing, raging goddess,
brilliant and unforgiving
as the hungry soil aching
for another taste
of flesh.
 
 

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