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.