Immaculate Conception

The ship of sun-god Ra climbs up his fiery path
Sending shadows like pillars of ivory
Made by giants of old or red kerm-king.
The rigid tower is bedecked with flowers of winter

To celebrate the ritual; lo, the dead will rise
Amidst the ring of burning bush and fleece
Where hides the ark, the sacred vessel, grail
By the well of virgin water, now laid bare.

Sacred glyph of rose and lily, seat of wisdom
Consent to catch and hold the lightning lance
Which pierces the blood red silver chalice
On the sacrificial altar sheathed in velvet.

Stand against the wind, swallow stinging blades of grass
Wherein the snake will squirm; engorge the stone
In the wallowing grave, tangled in the weed
Which streams in fervent chaos round the slippery womb.

Feel the ice-cold flood sweep round and through the crevice,
Surge and retract, caressed by breeze and light,
Stroking the senses while the earth stands still
And time suspends its magic potion deep in space,

Till the fountain bursts in cascades of golden stars,
Explosive energy, raw word of life
Springs reborn with insight, muse inspiring,
Poetry imagined by a child; the bitter truth.

To fathom this precious seed of fertile legend
The virgin must submit as Hebron girls
Fling down the flowers. Within the maiden lass
I grow, white-winged butterfly in the chrysalis.