Friday, January 12, 2018
A Mage Is In This World
The whirling of green goddesses astounds the witnesses,
A shaking river of blood is about to burst, skilful plain cleaving
Of the flesh is about to remove a forgetting man.
He is a righteous man, without a care but heaven, the only bridge,
Where he will find and discover a bride, of only the traits of love.
The whirling carries on in the world of longevities, loose earth
Tosses over, uncovering the coffins of despair and lovely evil.
A gun and horse is on the path to discover a golden coin,
Too fast was the whip, willing to illness, but reluctant to health;
This is the fire of accusations, offering the whirling goddesses.
Let me see the green goddess climb and shoot its fangs at the golden
Man who speaks along the churches, the cathedrals and houses.
The whip is arriving soon, for the whirling has been yellow blood,
Not green blood of the forests, so occurrences confidently strike
The feet of darling women and men who bespeak and behold the danger.
Topic(s) of this poem: magic,world