“Italian Girl Drawing Water,” William-Adolphe Bouguereau, 1871, WikiArt.

Part 3: Vesia, Sun-Altar Child (Last)

Sacred founts, divine fountainhead, pilgrim-
Petitioned presence, I, Cosimia, questions
Answered, oft not enough, unfaithful desired
To know all, beyond what I could reveal, one
World, place therein, until girl-child, Vesia,
On temple steps my gown touched, by her
Hand, virgin countenance, forced to yield,
Water ceremonies performed, pool immersed,
Emerging from clear depths, Æther transformed,
Goddess arose, arrows quivered, eyes words
Speaking. Amongst shaded groves we wandered,
Conversations amongst clouds, cerulean skies,
Vesia reckoned with her divinity, realizations,
Epiphanies, beyond adolescence.

“Mother, mountaintop sun altar is my destiny,”
Vesia stated. “In Ancient Ones, I believe, place,
Time transported, golden cities, cradle of life,
Creation formed by thought-mingled marrow.”
Glories beneath deific heights, single word, she
Stated, “Farwell.” Hope, despair of human-kind,
Vesia bore upon her breast, sweet sorrows,
Flashing eyes, she vanished, time’s receding
Shores, brief encounter, mysteries past under-
Standing, meaning sought, discovered. Yet,
Touched I was, my gown singed, heart full-empty.
What realm Vesia conceived? Mind turning to
Ancient Cyprus. Dagger-deep remorse, I wept.

Alas! Pilgrim processions, lines twist-turning
To temple steps, prayers, petitions, I could
Not bear, desiring coin over spirit, benumbed,
I yearned for distant ships of sail, fathomed
Killing wars, plague, famine, crop-burning
Fires, riddance of base humanity, decades
Of repeated self-destruction. I took clothing
Of woman beggar, drifting thistled hillsides,
I too, was lost as Dione, Tetheros. In truth,
This was not who I was, but had become:
Disillusioned, lost, betrayal of columned-
Portal voices, exhausted, upon rocky
Heights, I starved, pained slow death.

“Soul Carried to Heaven,” William-Adolphe Bouguereau, circa 1878, WikiArt.

Carrion birds, flesh picked from weary
Bones, such release, hair unwreathed from
Skull, soul floating free, into light arose,
Creation of life, comforter of death, my
Prayers, petitions at Ancient One’s feet,
Prostrate, fated destiny realized, beginning,
End, again returning. Winding Pindus
Mountain footpaths, clearing reached,
Toppled stone columns, one archway still
Remaining. “Time beyoked within my walls,
Flowing river fluid,” echoing voice stated,
I, Cosimia, startled-stopped, shimmering
Edifice upon spruce summit. Pilgrims
Behold! I am clay tablets unearthed.

This concludes three-part Cosimia poem. Thanks for reading.

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