Ripped from the root:
I am with you.
Shut the thinking down and let the show begin.
I feel her alive and thankful
Magic the guide to expect as she makes her entrance -
And We may answer any question put -
Like a vessel to the field of Knowledge
Reaching my hand up to that brilliant shaft
Glistening in the golden dust of ages
I was there and there
And now over here.
Pulsing - the heartbeats of populations
The wind whipping past my ankles and through my fingers,
Sailing effortlessly across a field of beckoning white
The fluttering of a thousand wings...
I lived once alone in a tiny hut by a river -
I stood on the top of a building as it collapsed,
Oh the wind can cause the rails to creak like a ship in the Arctic.
Did I not transform your life?
A slavedancer, beaded and perfumed
Metal-cold bracelets upon each wrist -
The question of my deity rewarded
With every wave of my hand to the audience,
Did you not bask beneath my gaze?
In 200 AD, I am yet just and fair in the language of trees
A soldier in respite while they plotted my death.
Then a simple Bard shackled and singing -
I know what it is to lose my two sons
I remember somehow the grievous pain in the pit of my stomach,
A woman’s heart has the patience of the black, black sea.
I predict Patience will be the end of me.
My fingernails chipped and filled with dirt from the farm,
Smoke brushes along the contours of my form,
Seamen called and I answered.
Painted for another photo-shoot,
Walking delicately through the mines,
Trimmed, and perfect and haven’t eaten in three days,
Look to the side, see the conspirators behind the curtain,
Backstage,
Down the alleyways,
Waiting in a Model T,
Tumbling through forests,
Guns and knives, hammers and poisons
Wandering between realms
Like Trojans on a vase, I fought well and bitter and to the death,
I fall like leaves from separate similar struggles,
Falling to the side, folding in
My hands frozen at the tips -
Reaching up again to that lovely, lovely place
Frostbite without actuality - a point of meaning -
I cannot see the faces in the balcony.
Flashing one scene then the next -
The lights red to gold upon my hair,
Oh I could answer any question -
For the reasoning hasn’t changed a thousand-fold stages:

A strange Maternal process.
The spell is neither Word nor Deed alone, it merely is.

Tears hot on my cheeks know no limits of feeling or time,
The Singer mute.
The Lorelei gone and the river dried up.
The invention of gunpowder compressed -
Spark!
The silent feline not acknowledging the mirror.
A Fever -
Love.
Brightest when misunderstood.
Mother is the most important word.

I don’t need to be known by the Universe.
I travel moment by moment - a star to every sky,
Dancing without much to say but a life to demonstrate,
And one young man came with gifts,
Could you not have left alone and kept me as your Muse?
And another believes I have picked him from the crowd.
The taste of me alone profound,
Resurrected.
I am the Universe should the show go well...
My arms growing like Kudzu.
Dis-transformed and exhausted
Waiting for a door to open from within
Alone in a corner with my head on my knees:
This is not who they came to see.