Persephone

Although it is a language
she prefers that there would be no way to pronounce it.
A persephonic lullaby that stretches shoots from
that which has fuzzed, melted and fallen apart
A call to the canopy to sway favourably to the four directions
the elementals seeking sovereignty over their alchemical predilection.

And the blinding rise from those hedonistic Hades
brings a blossoming of growing pains
the spongey marrow sucks up new light to photosynthesize
as backs arc for irises
each petal is combed out by sighs

Ascending to a crown of light
behind the twin temples and the Horus I
sparks the spurs on heels that reel out the skirts of star stricken skies.
Kiss the abyss and know the natureless infinty of
sat
chit
ananda,
Aye me! To return from there to this!

I can see in the great shakes of shakti-mata
that
although it is a language
she prefers
that there would be no way to pronounce it.