The Secret of the Chariot
I am the beast before me
Sentenced to forever follow behind the Sun above me
That I am.
Placed as a protector, a carrier,
A steed made of mirror
Reflecting its light, which is given and taken away
In intermediate intervals ~
That seem so cruel and cold.
“I never move at all”, says the sun
In answer to my complaints
“It is you who hide me from yourself”
Turning to and fro
until you are ill
Protect and guard the conduct of your will
And I shall take you in my wings
To ascend when fleshy tasks are done.
But to deny me,
Oh my lover,
Oh my love,
To defy me,
And to follow instead
The murderous voice that pounds, writhing in your dying, mud made form
If you allow this serpent,
primitive and sewn together from fear,
to slander me with your symptoms of suffering
If you permit your gross desires
To take my place
In your heart
For but a moment, of a sliver of a fraction of
Infinity
Well then my love,
My lover,
I shall wait for you.
I shall not punish you.
But rather,
Shall never cease my own beingness,
Which can be swayed by none
there are no tides upon me
that can be turned by gravity
So I continue
Regardless of your choices.
And shall welcome you in my open arms,
As soon as
You choose me.
Your spirit
Oh your soul,
I follow you as an albatross does a ship at sea.
Hoping for the North wind to turn
You back to me.
-White Witch
