Alicia Lewis: Jupiter's Moon

Fall '13 TOC

Rising from the ash of a distant star
from it's own vagrancies,
the goddess alights
upon the temple to preserve herself—
nothing remains of Jupiter.
She aligns with the temple,
this temple of obscurity and passion
to awaken in herself forgotten treasure—
a once sought after existence
where the heart defies death and
perhaps it is here where
she will defy these deaths and align
with Truth, or not;
perhaps she will
not know the true test of love upon this
earth for it is vile in willfulness.
Jupiter, once begotten, is now lost—
all that remain are feral cats
who cry, mimicking the cries of men
too stoic to weep for death, but weep
because their life passes them by;
yet, because it passes them by, they
regard it as a death and belie the goddess
who resurrects life begotten unto man
with beauty.
Being beautiful for the sake of beauty
is neither her gift or her treasure,
but man's notion
as this was created of her
for her—
to become her dreariness obscured
in the throws of grief,
as she is of grief
of Jupiter, of death.
"The veil between time and eternity thins to gossamer,"
and the goddess respects resurrection;
she no longer awaits man's visit
no longer assumes that he will come forth—
she looks to Jupiter's moon anew
gauging just how hopeful her life has become.
Her life, his life, a life envisioned entwined—
never will the two meet unless she fractions.

"The veil between time...." Douglas Horton, American Clergyman, 1891-1968




Not Enough Night
Not Enough Night
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