Rose Gardens of Eternity
On today, I have bitten the apple that is symbolic of love. Uncursed and harmonious. Vindicating the womanhood that echoes through grand hallway veins. I have tasted the totem of the lady in red. The mother of the great rite and the master of swans. Our lady of lustful ache. Aphrodite, the anemone bearer, the myrtle tree, the most lustrous pearl.
The pools of her rest, unfathomable. In this realm, she forms a crescent and shoots an arrow. She speaks of an immaculate fluttering beneath the breast plate. She gazes into her own reflection without eyes.
When one tenderly holds the face of the supernatural, one will meet her gaze. She is a recognition of love as origin. An outward pouring of light through bodily channels. Or a refined casting of circles, done with the wave of her hand.
La Reina, she is dressed in gold and bloody silks. She reminds me of the womb and of a desire, unsparked until slowly woven with spirit by needle and thread.
On today, I am erupting from within. Unfolding symmetrically and growing an infinite number of petals. I am abundant and sweet on the tongue. I am tantalizing and forbidden.
There is an empire of me. I see visions of imperial sisters, who through time, left buttercream in my blood and teas with three sugars in place of my tears. I am the whisper of an era when we were together. When we were one heart beating.
When I speak, I speak of an Earthly artistry. Of love beyond body. Of all things down and dirty.
With my voice, I paint my grasping of the ethereal vail. I sing of its removing and replacing as a dance between lovers. I show in words how angels are real. And so is the spirit of Rock n Roll. I convince you with ease that they are one in the same. This is our way.
In the rose gardens of eternity, I have my deepest love. It is the sunshine and sweet breaths of oxygen. I am porous and absorbing a corporeal splendor. I am an image of two becoming one. I live within the transcendence of spirit. I circle with my mind, the concentrated tendrils of my own conviction, and I name them as thorns.
Before flesh and bone, I was here. In this realm, we shape shift at will. We become our rivers and our skies, feeling first-hand the heartbeat of all life. We are beautiful, ultimately formless. Made of porcelain if we wish it. Swimming through seas of stars, living in great temples, or blooming as lily of the valley. We can see the sparks of our summoning with all eyes.
There are roses that bloom in moonlight where I am from. Superficially in defiance of nature. They open when heartstrings are gently strummed. They unveil when Selene exhales in a sigh and unleashes rains of silver mist. The midnight rose, an instruction to the priestess to open in praise when the moon is full. A reminder to yield botanical offerings to the cycling universe and crashing oceans. A celebration of shadow. A balancing of sun and moon held in celestial anatomy.
In my dreams, I am cloaked in red, awaiting to re-enter this world through marble doors. A passage that must be chosen and rightfully earned through Earthly voyage. I spend my dream time watching other sisters pass over the threshold in front of me. Seeing their love. Feeling their sense of welcome. Embracing them before we start life, anew. Before we are together again in the fruitful pastures of red and green. The sensuous apple orchards of Venus where we eclipse what they have called sin. Where we are free. And then, I awake before my time comes. Every dream is the same. The morning sun reminds me that one day I shall return to where I have come from. That my work is not done. That when time aligns, I shall rejoin my Venusian sisterhood and the flowers. When I am the rose that has withered on the Earth and has been reborn in the gardens of eternity. Until then, you may find me here with my imagined, honeyed scepter on the aisle of dreams. The poetess of the blooming ether, a mauve wash over alabaster. Leaving scatterings of petals on the path towards a set of marble doors.
