Legions live within
the boundaries
of her skin.
Joined not at the hip but
breath in breath
they are,
they walk,
they weave.
The Old Ones occupy
her heart
in one blood
the echo chamber of Ancients.
Spiders occupy her hair,
their lighted threads
weaving to and fro,
stars to sons.
Light occupies her eyes,
Fire is the kindling of her soul,
Roots run through veins
Drumming the lungs of others.
Of hoofed feet,
winged arms
poured magic from
pawed hands and
horned tendrils of silk.
The pulsing, poolings of stillness
and
songs of the ancients echoing.
Again.
A thousand souls
A multitude of expressions of one flame
Inhabit this mosaic,
This occupied woman.
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