Still waters

Falling blows upon my back
Blood eagle of the heart
My spirit is stolen right out of my lungs.

My hands they move my feet they step
What is this I see before me?

It is not a knife.

But the goddess of the East
my soul wrapped in forked tongue
framed in fanged teeth

The holy Nagas chanting sutras
in other realms fall in whispers on my chest.

Their voices are sad and forlorn
Singing a melody
like the Maiden plays on her dulcimer

A vision of beauty
with the moon at her breast
she is calm on the lake this still night.

But rushing forward to slake my thirst I break through,
Washing my face in reality.

The water, sweet on my throat
and tinted with the essence of the flowers
that fall into the stream a ways away.
can never hold or repair her image.

But a flowing river is beautiful
and still water is stagnant.