"Portrait of Jaroslava," Alphonse Mucha, 1930, WikiArt.
“Portrait of Jaroslava,” Alphonse Mucha, 1930, WikiArt.

Part 5: Deific Seed Instilled

Spindled wool of fate, weave of time undone,
Bronze tomb door opened, sunlight crystal
Illuminating mountain peaks. Kabyrah knelt
Before bone-containing crypt, holy messenger
In eternal rest, scrolls of papyri, accounts of
Teaching, healing, interpretations of divine.
Within the tomb, time revolved upon itself,
Kabyrah entered wave-crashing months and
Years. Glance backwards, Tal’May was
Reassuring, then tumbled to swirling void.

Emotions overwhelmed, Kabyrah dared touch
Sacred bones, fingers caressing mummified
Legs and arms, gliding to parchment-covered
Face, sinewy scalp still attached, she brought
Noble brow to breasts, embracing locks of
Matted hair, agéd lips to maiden’s cheek. Lo!
Tal’May witnessed their full embrace, skeleton
Wresting from shrouded shade, shimmering
Light above them hovered, arms and legs
Entangled, deific seed to abdomen instilled.

Kabyrah writhing on stone floor, impregnated
By mortal man, living bones, her chalice quaked
As nascent life took hold, horrors witnessed by
Tal’May, whose struggled reach to tomb, tore
Flesh from hands and arms. In time-tormented
Maelstrom, to safety Kabyrah was pulled, elder
Mother’s arms pained afire. “Yes, I remember
Everything,” Kabyrah offered. “Direction sent
By light divine, to seek you out on grassy
Streams as my elder mother.”

"Madonna of the Lilies," Alphonse Mucha, 1905, WikiArt.
“Madonna of the Lilies,” Alphonse Mucha, 1905, WikiArt.

Alas! Sun-focusing crystal warmed mountain-
Tops, winter-dormant fields, brought life to
Waiting wheat and olive groves, beasts amongst
The fields. In mirth of life returned, granite
Faces wept, pure water cascading to springs
And streams, villagers with buckets to newly
Filling wells. Two crystal stones Kabyrah gifted,
For holy messenger carried within, promised
Healing and renewal. Meadowlands flowered
Forth, thankful praise to Kabyrah and Tal’May.

Of dreamy melodies, muse present at my side, my last poem
for a while, not that I am tired, but oft too far stretched from
keyboard to ancient places of which I write. Yes, upon ethereal
realms sequel exists: Messenger child born upon Ægean Ocean
shores. Alas! Its beckoning reach, I must meet these refrains
halfway, beyond mountain, sea, and cloud. Thanks for reading.  

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