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Ishtar’s Chosen
- Ishtar’s Chosen -
Once I rejected thee, not accepting that I am thy Chosen One!
The darkness tried to claim me, and I fought it with such vigor,
And through thee I triumphed, but only through thee so won…
Was the spiritual battle I waged, when unto thee I did thus stir!
I beheld all the vast universes that span the vast gap of eternity,
And all of this that is, hath the gods so lain at thy naked feet.
Ishtar, great and terrible Goddess of the fair sparkling stars,
All the heavenly bodies do bow before thee, all in submission.
Weaver, thou art, of the silk threads of every divine destiny,
Higher than the heavens above is thy great and golden seat!
Mighty is thy gilded voice, the breaker of Death’s iron bars,
Even the god angels must kneel and beg for thy permission.
How thou art loved, oh Goddess, and how thou art also feared,
Pain and pleasure in equal portion are thy weapons and rewards…
By these, how many wanton hearts and souls are daily seared,
By lovely fires hotter and sharper than wicked flaming swords.
Divine Devastatrix thou art, of both human and celestial lands,
The keys of life and death are ever shining, ever light and dark,
Ever shining, ever so brightly, eternally safe within thy keeping…
Giving their incomprehensible powers into thy immortal hands.
Power to render the world unto Hell itself, even barren and stark,
Or by heavenly grace, to end all pain and all sorrowful weeping…
To grow gardens of pure Paradise, from out of hot desert sands!
Thou are lent bejeweled and silvery wings, powered by the Light,
Crafted by the high spirits of wind, of storm, of fire and of frost.
Thou are beloved of all who do walk in the sun, and in the night,
Whether they be blessed or damned, saved or forest in dark lost.
Thou dost fly about, unseen, amongst the cities and the nations…
Blessing the worthy, whilst reducing others to ruin and to blight.
Those gifted by thee, do rise far above their appointed stations,
Rewarded are thy truly righteous ones, far beyond their sight.
Thou art at the service of thy noblest desires and whims alone,
To no other force wilt thou deign to display any humbled will…
Thy spirit is stronger than any world of rock and of solid stone,
Even blood itself must obey thee, even when it doth swift spill!
Oh Lady, called fair, at the sound of thee, of thy blessed voice,
The Earth herself must, in deep obedience to thee, bow down…
She cannot compare to thy grander beauty; where is her choice!
She places yet another perfect stone into thy light coppery crown,
Whilst all the ancient elemental spirits gather around, to rejoice!
When mortals come before thee, let them each bow their head…
Let them come before thee in respectful fear, and in trembling,
For thou art: Ishtar, Inanna, Queen of the Living and the Dead.
Let them get hence, to thy shrines, to every truly sacred place…
Thy statues and idols let them begin, so reverently, assembling,
All to the greater glory of thy sovereign and truly divine grace!
There is truly no goddess who could ever rule in thy holy stead,
None more ideal in nature form, or in radiant and ageless face…
All do receive, from thee, their just and well-deserved portion,
For thou art wise and good, as well as being relentless and cruel!
Thou art terrible as the Leviathan that rises from the First Ocean,
Thou art shining and fair, beyond the glitter of a precious jewel!
The humble ones who devote their lives to thee, even above all,
They weep for thee, tears of joyful worship in thy holy name…
They offer up songs of lamentation, for all who hear not thy call,
They set their hearts to salvation, longing for thy Sacred Flame.
They seek its’ embrace along thy great and blessedly sacred path,
Unto the house of thy glory, unto thy kingdom of eternal bliss!
The wise do seek thy blessings, whilst fools yet incur they wrath,
Whilst, above all, thy Chosen do receive thy pure healing kiss…
It doth cure all, until at last one doth become divine and remade.
As if all praises were not for thee so enough, there is finally this,
Those Chosen that boldly call upon thee need never be afraid.
I came to accept thee, and to accept us as one, for such we are…
Thou most glorious aspect of my higher self, nobly ascendant!
Now I sing thy praises, and I hold very sacred the name Ishtar.
My songs are joyful, for I no longer need to sing a sad lament!
Once I rejected thee, not accepting that I am thy Chosen One!
The darkness tried to claim me, and I fought it with such vigor,
And through thee I triumphed, but only through thee so won…
Was the spiritual battle I waged, when unto thee I did thus stir!
I beheld all the vast universes that span the vast gap of eternity,
And all of this that is, hath the gods so lain at thy naked feet.
Ishtar, great and terrible Goddess of the fair sparkling stars,
All the heavenly bodies do bow before thee, all in submission.
Weaver, thou art, of the silk threads of every divine destiny,
Higher than the heavens above is thy great and golden seat!
Mighty is thy gilded voice, the breaker of Death’s iron bars,
Even the god angels must kneel and beg for thy permission.
How thou art loved, oh Goddess, and how thou art also feared,
Pain and pleasure in equal portion are thy weapons and rewards…
By these, how many wanton hearts and souls are daily seared,
By lovely fires hotter and sharper than wicked flaming swords.
Divine Devastatrix thou art, of both human and celestial lands,
The keys of life and death are ever shining, ever light and dark,
Ever shining, ever so brightly, eternally safe within thy keeping…
Giving their incomprehensible powers into thy immortal hands.
Power to render the world unto Hell itself, even barren and stark,
Or by heavenly grace, to end all pain and all sorrowful weeping…
To grow gardens of pure Paradise, from out of hot desert sands!
Thou are lent bejeweled and silvery wings, powered by the Light,
Crafted by the high spirits of wind, of storm, of fire and of frost.
Thou are beloved of all who do walk in the sun, and in the night,
Whether they be blessed or damned, saved or forest in dark lost.
Thou dost fly about, unseen, amongst the cities and the nations…
Blessing the worthy, whilst reducing others to ruin and to blight.
Those gifted by thee, do rise far above their appointed stations,
Rewarded are thy truly righteous ones, far beyond their sight.
Thou art at the service of thy noblest desires and whims alone,
To no other force wilt thou deign to display any humbled will…
Thy spirit is stronger than any world of rock and of solid stone,
Even blood itself must obey thee, even when it doth swift spill!
Oh Lady, called fair, at the sound of thee, of thy blessed voice,
The Earth herself must, in deep obedience to thee, bow down…
She cannot compare to thy grander beauty; where is her choice!
She places yet another perfect stone into thy light coppery crown,
Whilst all the ancient elemental spirits gather around, to rejoice!
When mortals come before thee, let them each bow their head…
Let them come before thee in respectful fear, and in trembling,
For thou art: Ishtar, Inanna, Queen of the Living and the Dead.
Let them get hence, to thy shrines, to every truly sacred place…
Thy statues and idols let them begin, so reverently, assembling,
All to the greater glory of thy sovereign and truly divine grace!
There is truly no goddess who could ever rule in thy holy stead,
None more ideal in nature form, or in radiant and ageless face…
All do receive, from thee, their just and well-deserved portion,
For thou art wise and good, as well as being relentless and cruel!
Thou art terrible as the Leviathan that rises from the First Ocean,
Thou art shining and fair, beyond the glitter of a precious jewel!
The humble ones who devote their lives to thee, even above all,
They weep for thee, tears of joyful worship in thy holy name…
They offer up songs of lamentation, for all who hear not thy call,
They set their hearts to salvation, longing for thy Sacred Flame.
They seek its’ embrace along thy great and blessedly sacred path,
Unto the house of thy glory, unto thy kingdom of eternal bliss!
The wise do seek thy blessings, whilst fools yet incur they wrath,
Whilst, above all, thy Chosen do receive thy pure healing kiss…
It doth cure all, until at last one doth become divine and remade.
As if all praises were not for thee so enough, there is finally this,
Those Chosen that boldly call upon thee need never be afraid.
I came to accept thee, and to accept us as one, for such we are…
Thou most glorious aspect of my higher self, nobly ascendant!
Now I sing thy praises, and I hold very sacred the name Ishtar.
My songs are joyful, for I no longer need to sing a sad lament!
Published 5th Apr 2013
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For my illustration for this poem, I decided to use this photo I took of me dressed as the "Whore of Babylon" which in my spirituality I equate with both the Babylonian queen Semiramis and the ancient goddess Ishtar who is one of my patron goddesses. I took the photo using my webcam and added only the fiery scarlet background and the green glow on the chalice. This photo of me suited this particular poem to perfection!
