Coven of the Heart

Coven of the Heart

I dream of splendor in blissful rest,
calm and serene in heavenly quest,
seeking tranquility in illusion unbound
and peaceful surrender to the silence of sound.
No glimmering globes of light overhead,
no shimmering orbs with the sun in its bed.
The infinite ethereal darkening dreamscape
collapses in on itself, foretelling its fate.
The land turns to muck and ash covers the ground
and the dried husks of trees encircle me round,
enclosing me in a ring of the ancients
where the wind howls as though losing its patience.
And then as the world still, they come in procession,
cloaked in their robes they stand at attention.
And from within the circle of trees that enclose,
they encircle me and cast off my cloths.
Skyclad I stand, bare to the world,
thrust into the circle, my secrets are hurled.
'See the true me', I say to them all,
'Cast not your judgment for I will not fall'.
In silence they commune with spirits of old,
debating the theory of drawing me into their fold.
A fire burst forth from a hearth long left bare,
illuminating my flesh and the secrets that they share.
And into that moment I am cast adrift in a storm,
For their faces, now lit, show me the truth,
that all of them, each, are stages of my youth.
Each one stands as a half forgotten remnant,
and individual aspect long ago fragmented.
And in that moment I implore them to come
and join me, instead, to see what we become.
And as each single fragment is incorporated within
flooding back memories of good and of sin,
interconnected and rewoven whole,
the tapestry is complete within the body of my soul.
The pain of remembrance, though scary at first,
bring me the completion of a journey's long thirst.
The flames and the darkness disappear with the morn,
and I awaken in splendor to savor with relish,
my life now reborn.