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Witchvox Chapter: Local Poetry
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VxPoem ID: 3339
Posted: April 6th. 2004 3:27:14 PM
Age Group: Adult
I see the Goddess, young and glowing, a young boy by her side. He is frolicking in the snow, laughing with the Goddess as the flakes dance around them. It's a time for rest, not death. The snow is but a blanket. The Goddess starts dancing with her child, whirling faster and faster. The snow dances around them, twirling like a million fairy children. Slowly the snow starts melting away and the boy grows. At their feet, flowers start to appear. The young God is growing stronger and more beautiful. He starts playing a pipe and the dance grows wilder. Spring storms start. Lightning dashes across the sky. Destruction and change, growth and renewal, they all follow in the path of the storms. Still the laughter goes on, grows louder and we are invited to join in. Life is a time of joy and as for change, well, change is good for without change then there is nothing. The dance starts to grow more sensuous, the young God more strutting and proud. The tango, the lambda, they have nothing on the dance that is now being preformed. The dance turns to love making as another storm gathers. The passion of the God can not be held back and the passion of the Goddess is as strong. With the morning light the dance continues. The Goddess, once again pregnant, dances in her lover's arms. His strength and wisdom growing stronger with each passing minute. His breath lightly tickles her face and her laughter causes the flowers and trees to dance on the breeze. The God reaches his prime the earth is green and growing. His power is felt across the land. He is king and the Goddess his queen. Inside her he also resides, the cycle continuing. He struts with pride even as he starts to grow weaker. His strength is flowing into the earth. The harvest starts coming in and the God's beard is growing gray. The laughter isn't quite as strong, things are more serious but there is still a joy in the dance. It is life. It is change. It is good. Slowly the God grows older and the Goddess grows rounder. The passion is tempered but is still there, under the surface. Finally the God rests his weary head against the Goddess and his spirit is set free. There are tears and his body crumbles to dust in the Goddess's arms. The dance turns slower, almost like a lullaby. The earth grows brown and rests. There is a cry to the dance and the Goddess's time grows near. Inside the young God kicks and grows. Finally he bursts forth again and the Goddess rests, nurturing the young God sleeping by her side. She pulls the blanket of snow over them. The dance is paused but only paused. Daily their strength grows. They start to play in the snow, starting the dance again.
Author's Notes: I wrote this several years ago and people seem to enjoy it as I have also found it several places over the years on the web. Posting it here though in no way invalidates my copyright and if you wish to use if _ask_ first.
If you do use it or send it out to someone, it does need to have an authorship of "By Sheila K Watkins" attached to it either under the title or at the end of the prose. If you do plan on doing so though please see the above paragraph.
I posted this piece of prose in the manner I feel it is most effective (sans paragraph breaks)
Sheila K Watkins
Author's Location: Panora, Iowa
More Poems: Zelizi has posted 11 additional poems- View them?
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