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Terse Confession of a Mystic Nr. 3

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YASHODA

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Not 4Saken (en 20Nineteen)

Lyres gilt w/ kaumarya leaf, Accompanied by a peacock’s conceit, Pierce the barricades of a hindering darkness Whereby revealed is the flicker of an occulted light Whence crows, en sackcloth, take whispery flight That is the moment The crown of woe is w/drawn The very moment u realise U are NOT 4saken; Ganga’s shimmering flow has not abated and The forge has not grown cold, Unable 2 cook the red sulphur, Temper iron, and distinguish A broken heart from A broken soul © The Herder 20Nineteen

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Soma from the Well: Forge

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Love (20Seventeen)

From ev’rything u read And ev’rything u see It is easy 4 one 2 reason That Love is absent That Love is on the run From Anger, Pride, and Fear That Love has abandoned us (2 a dire Fate, a loveless State) And her daughters, Mercy and Grace, are not here But lo, a jug tips              a pantry door opens And Love, barely draped, skips (Thru a garten of planets and stars) A chain of flowers Above her hips The scent of lilac Behind her ears And across her lips © The Herder, 20Seventeen