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Tuesday, September 11, 2018


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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