The Prophetess speaks

On the margins of the city
I arrived
just outside the circle, on its very edge
I lived
always on the outside
I looked on
at the people in the dome
there was great pity
in my heart -

sliced in half was my energy
in my prime, I was tired
I lay on my left side
and my right
I did as I was bid
up to my waist in water
I stood
I was pledged
many things in reward
but the tide
always turned
and I was left -

I came here
to always part
at the wells of weeping
and the full soul keeping
all things green - the synergy
was too much for me
each breath felt like my last
but I was fired
anew with sight -

I was daughter 
to great space
and the earth spoke
and understood
what food it was I ate
and how I poured -
always spurned -
wild locusts and the honey
the bite and the sweet
kept me alive
but I found my cloth sore
and it hurt my skin,
bereft I lived in,

to be a seer
means both pain and art
alive with the past
bright with light
and knowing -
it was me it broke.

The dust at God's feet
sparkles - all the tiny lives
so insignificant
make up existence - the very stuff
that is all things

it was always and forever
too late down here -
I fought my fate
and lost - it was me 
that spoke -
but no-one heard the sound

it is God alone that sings
pressed against our bone
he lives - we know him
we know him not.

On the margins of the sea
I found peace
but the pendulum swings
and we cannot stop it.

On the margins of the city
on the edge of many lives
I will leave
borne on angels' wings.
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