A New Religion

Shall I start a new religion,
Mother Goddess,
Or will Jesus mind and men say I'm paranoid?
Shall I tell them that the
misty clouds their Gothic spires pierce,
Are your mystery?
Shall I tell him that creeping beetles and funny things
flying are really secrets alluding to your domain?
Shall I tell them you love and hate at once,
and laugh as you heal the twain.

Of course not, for they know it already.
They merely sleep a tired hungry dream,
Awaiting home again.

What they know you tease away, and laugh
Scattering a thousand faces along their path.

Kiss them awake
Love them again.
Forgive the rape
Of your domain,
and shine in the melody of the trees.

I know the creeping beetle, if men would look,
Could tell you want no hungry bondage,
Nor is perfection your aim.
That you you ridicule guilt,
And spend your muse without conflict's pain.