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  • Writer's pictureAnnelisa MacBean

The Goddess of Reality

by Maya Luna

Let it be known I worship the Goddess The one with tangled hair where insects nest The one with blood soaked thighs The one who crushes my concepts With her razor teeth And spits my mind into the wind She shakes her belly to the beat Of primordial passion And feasts on the meat of ignorance She wanders in the garden with a basket Woven with the chaos of stars She is naked And savoring Every petal and thorn She churns the wheel of time And casts the seeds of manifestation Without rhyme or reason She is senseless and crazy Innocent and free Her skin is the color of heart break and Her eyes the sound of laughter She takes no prisoners She can not be contained Or rationalized She wont conform to my ideas of What reality is Or how things should be Just when I think I have her under control She takes me down She will not be dominated She always wins She stomps to the beat and throws her hips She is the prowl of the panther And the leaping deer of supreme delight Her hair smells of tobacco and pine She carries a knife in her pocket And holds a lily in her hand She is pure in heart She is the darkness of thunder She is the undercover agent Of divine madness Whose ruthlessness is the compassion That severs my arrogance and Undoes my separation So that I may know her deeply And drink in the wild radiance Of her holy mess With all that I am I submit to her With all that I am I prostrate before her Insane beauty She demands the death Of all my control When I am humble and true She comes to me “Dance!” She says. “Why aren't you dancing!” I surrender all reason She will not be tamed My submission is my devotion I have tried to control her In 10,000 ways Tried to seduce her into My happiness Yet she is the Grace That smashes all hope And opens up the blessed wound Of living When I am exhausted and weary She brings me to my knees Her muddy feet Are the altar of worship The palace of freedom Where Joy is born I love Her This feral beast woman Spinning chaos and tenderness with her Fingertips Whose tongue speaks no meaning Whose laughter is the rose Of shameless beauty Whose smile is the sword That slays all striving To the one who can never be possessed Or contained I submit To the one who is drenched In the nectar of Love To the one who demands Nothing less To the Goddess of Reality I dance with her because There is nothing left To do

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