Part 2: Soul Passageways   

Whilst I had not lived Kellesha’s life, her
Memories crept into my consciousness,
Dream images she parchment recorded.
By warring strife, great woodlands, cities,
Ancient and flourishing, had fallen, high-
Standing parapets rubble reduced, funeral
Pyres, dark smoke rising, except sword-
Wielding warrior priestess Kellesha fought
Until killed in hail of whistling arrows.
By mournful song, torch light, her body
Was tomb buried, bronze door sealed.

Of bridges, Kellesha parchment inscribed,
Soul passageways, prayers, incantations,
Rivers of radiant light emanating from
Mountaintop thunderous clouds, for holy
Hermits oft forest opening, sick, dying
Pallid grew, receiving repentant dead.
In writing-revisiting, time-torn months,
Years, we relived such sights, spilling
Sands reversing, forward-flowing. Were
We blessed or god-cursed? For us, no
Hiding placed existed, as we, too, strove
From nether worlds to heavenly heights.

“O! Veil of mortal sight released, spark of
Life, to gods old and new we wrote, our souls
Quivering, clear springs in autumnal breeze.
“We are vessels,” I proclaimed aloud. “Verses
Flow through us, language of the gods, no
Fiercer fires to behold.” Alas! Nothing of
Ourselves we scribed. To deific thought, we
Were lowest beggar, poorest poor, punished
For heinous deeds beyond prayers. Ask not
What we believe, for all witnessed was beyond
Belief, glimpsing divine, anguish of mankind.

Our mind and blood conjoined as one, from
Entombed skeleton to temple guardians,
Kellesha and I arose, though unequal in soul
Strength and physical might. Useless pale
Flower I, Anya, became, my fate realized, 
Without concern, cast aside, protection of
Sylvan groves, clear-flowing streams, rustic
Farming villages. Water to my face splashed,  
World Kellesha contrived had no taste, smell,
Or feel. Entombed I was in time-suspended
Sphere, realm of no beginnings, no end. 

Thanks for reading. This poem concludes with Part 3.

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