Monday, March 29, 2010
like pan-pipes laughing in my mind.
The maenad in me awakens.
I am drawn into your song.
her dance weaving
the song of the seasons.
A bacchante in ecstasy.
I clumsily attempt to seduce the God,
drunk on his vintage,
unaware that he has been pursuing me all along.
I run down the hillside,
seeking the solace of the forest.
In desparate passion I tear into flesh.
Blood in my mouth,
a life pressed like grapes bursting.
Limbs tangled into vines,
Tasting your sweet goat song,
Singing your raucous lament.
Lord of my Salvation.
Written for the Greater Dionysia 2010.