On The Nature of Things

Past the Holy Mother’s
Deliberately crafted daughter
Mathematically perfect
Whose soul and spirit
Are self evident
Yet not self aware

The Matriarch spreads
In the image of her God
Stunning golden wings
That glisten in the sun

Perched on the rib
Of Mother’s likewise hand-spun tree
Whose roots are planted
In soil and divinity

While each are one together
Both together are separate
Energy shared is not energy lost
Things gained are the only cost

Even a scale
Hung taught
By weaving chain
From vaulted ceiling tops
Must stay balanced
If light is to remain

Past the Holy Mother’s
Glistening daughter
Malevolent mist
Presses its presence
On unreceptive
Children of light

Clogging vision
Stunting voices
Spreading delusion
Amidst clamoring voices

Her intent remains pure
To labor without rest
But why has her God
Pressed weight on her chest

Who was once in the world
Now cradles in her nest
How decidedly human
To choose for himself
What is best…