An Apple for my Teacher
Covered in the thorns of disease of your own mind, even when the richest of rose petals where placed at your feet, their perfume wrapped its luxury around your heart. You felt my love, my truth, my beauty, you held my grace, whilst you fashioned for me a crown of thorns, and hung it over my already bleeding heart.
I bought droplets of honey to soothe your soul, fruits of friendship, and was stung by a thousand bees.
I planted seeds of devotion in the garden of your heart; your thoughts grew the weeds that you choke on today.
I built you a strong shelter from your own misery and wound of betrayal, and as powerful as a tornado your will to deceive me, swept through spinning out of nothingness and scattering me like dust.
I tasted your bitterness, whilst you stood on your moth eaten mantel of stars.
You are in deep waters now of life’s blazing fire, I no longer will fan your flames; listening to the sound of the waves inside you.
Put your thoughts to sleep, they are your delusion born of your shadows; remember your darkness is your candle.
Try untying your own knots of wrath, before executing others with your slanderous noose.
The drama you run from is in the threads of your own skirt, it runs with you as the threads of the tapestry you weave.
Hem up the lies; silence the jealousies, stitch in the compassion that you now trip over.
Step upward, all powerful, knowing that what hurts you indeed blesses you.
Service untainted with power over another, is the truth to Her mysteries.
Walking in wisdom cannot be taught, you will know truth through the eye of your heart.
© Astarté Earthwise