THE WEAVE:
Lilith catches a flaming
paper airplane, on the Wind,
folded from a page, torn
from the Oracle…
“A calm psalm resounds
’round the crown, boughs bow
to hear the hymnal. In reverence
they reflect its shape.
Behold! A Strange Cathedral.”
-The Oracle of Passeridae
Lilith reads it,
and grimmaces. Then,
she gets up, to write
Lucifer, a letter…
I will build this Strange Cathedral with you, on my own, as you have made me, and have given me no choice. The woman you chose not to leave, or take. The hand you do not hold, but will not release. And in so being, I am not a woman in this Story. Just a Corpse-Bride Cathedral, required for your Blood Magick, so you can finish your fucking Book. Look around, Lucifer. I am the paper. I am the wood.
#94 There is an empty Temple, in an ancient mill, marked by a number of Death, where a tree in Spiral waits, for you to walk your Way, into the Center of something, deep and crumbling and breathe there.
Planetary Signatures 