I go below,
Not into the darkness, no
(how I wish it were so!)
Down, down into the light
Where nothing sweet can grow;
Not the pomegranate or the grapes for rich red wine,
Oh, no, not on this shriveled vine.
Dried out and faded, ripped from the ground
All trampled underfoot - Artemis and her hounds!
Chaos and war, fleet-footed huntress -
‘Tis not I! Not I…no, no, not I.
So why then, why, must I hunt and campaign,
Deny my own world so others can cling?
This is madness of the cruelest kind.
I am lost in the hunt, unable to find the narcissus
Of my tender world, that sweet white flower, petals unfurled.
Oh, if only I were to pluck such a delicate bud
I’d be free to be the woman I am, purest of blood,
A woman so powerful, so mysterious, so true -
A fluent Eleusian, plutonian initiate through and through.
Take me below…so, so far below…
A way to use your mind for silent communication. Speaking about the methods in the book I have used since a young age.
21st Century learning. I also have a GoFundMe page to ask for funds so I can research with other people and add their experiences
The captivating music of birds and the enchanting beauty of roses have, each in their own right, inspired people around the world for as long as anyone can remember. How the two combine with the challenges faced by a struggling writer in Georgia to c
A way to use your mind for silent communication. Speaking about the methods in the book I have used since a young age.
21st Century learning. I also have a GoFundMe page to ask for funds so I can research with other people and add their experiences
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