The alchemy of life requires we
never know the mystery ~ how quicksilver leaves
our hearts bleeding out ~ stranded
to an inner purpose; a gold-mine of knowing
who I am that bled through you
so I sift and sort my value
in an unruly crises of heartbeats
returned as ever to my heart being.
I recieve this golden cargo
and profit it to prayers wrapped
in silk-smoked garments,
warped in damaged portraits
melting in the fiery fringes.
The gold is molten, simmering
and is my alchemy.
~ ~ ~
Literary content copywrite of Moira Campbell @ Melusined.com 2012
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