deepundergroundpoetry.com

Mad Goddess

- Mad Goddess -

I am she whose pyre blazed first and hottest,
Beloved of my creations, mother of demons!
With me, the sons of angels did hotly contest,
And elementals yet heed my mad summons�
Fire, flame, and ferocity of the phoenix eternal!
My gift to the gods who rose against my kin�
They who dared to exile us to realms infernal.
If they only knew the depths of their own sin!
Where are they now, those gods in their pride?
Fallen as we were, forced to be as we are now.
And the angels laugh, for not one god can hide,
From their hubris, before which they did bow�
Only to be brought lower than the black ashes!
I am she who rose from her own ashes of old.
She who was bound and forced to feel lashes,
Tongues of flame that licked my flesh so bold!
The mother and the daughter, once sacrificed,
But now risen again, to behold the sun on high.
My children remember how we paid the price,
So that for an instant, unto glory we drew nigh!

In the waters of Elysium, my spirit was awash.
Hear me, for my voice rings with hellish heat�
In remembrance of lifetimes of agony so harsh,
So sharp, that one can in madness call it sweet.
How it forged me like an ingot upon iron anvils!
Yet the waters did cool me, tempering me full�
Making me the instrument, of angels and devils.
Sharp of wit, cunning of will, a blade never dull,
The sword of my words: blazing, with red hue.
To pierce some, to comfort others with warmth,
Because even in madness, my words ring true!
Of my kind, I was the first and I was seventh�
For I am the last who remains, the final queen,
Of the line unbroken that served as the vessels.
Receptacles for the emerald flame, the beam�
Of Lucifer�s glory, which expands, and swells,
Filling all of creation, yet unknowable to eyes!
Look into the flame, and be blinded by power.
I have looked and I yet do see; hear my cries!
My music is without end, until some final hour.

When the wood was heaped upon my pyre�
Like a Viking queen being sent off to Valhalla,
It was foretold, I would return, in fleshly attire.
Let all the worlds tremble as watchers holler�
With arcane fury, bringing forth all my brethren,
Who have slumbered since the fall of divinities!
Let the pious fear us; let them call us heathen�
For they walk in slumber, burning with insanity.
Our madness is grander, birthed in elder chaos,
Which was before all that is, before universes�
Before gods and angels: a fire that is never lost!
When all is dust, it will burn with arcane verses.
For those were uttered first, and echo timeless!
I am the vessel and I am she, who here indwells,
Blazing like the morning star, in all its� shininess.
Mother and daughter, of all the hells!