Mithra
grew strong in the earth, cradled in Gaia’s womb
He sprang forth, like a titan in
fullness of form
The hero transcending on the back
of a bull
A victim made holy for the sake of
us all
Milk
flowed from the sacred wound, a stream of light
Sweet as honey, it was the nectar
of life
Drawn with a whisper, seal in the
truth
Holy Spirit, Sophia, all paths lead
to you
Mahatma
came to serve the poor, the Great One
Born in conflict, amid strife, like
Krishna
The cowherd, armed with the shield
of
Knowledge, and the sword of wisdom
Milk
flowed from your words as the morning light
Showering the rich and the poor alike
You offered a vision of new
possibilities
A united humanity without cast or class
We left it smoldering on
the altar
Metis,
the sands are falling, each grain a parcel of time
Your sons cleave the day from the
dark of night
Prometheus, with one eye on the
future
Epimetheus, with his sight on the
past
The
starry-field is lit, glowing white like spilt milk
The planets stars and galaxies,
spinning
We dance around the center and bear
witness
Pulling at the glittering tails of
comets burning
Mary,
blessed mother, a comfort to the fallen
Skipping across the moons bright
face
I drink from your cup as it turns me
to cinders
And a trillion stars raise their
voices to you
Milk
flowing from your breast to nourish the anointed
Did you know then who he would be?
The world made him a healer and a
tyrant, both
The child you birthed in on a bed of
straw
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