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Feasts of Fire and Air Poetry by Virginia Stewart
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Hymn to the Queen of Heaven

I walked in the street of the wine shops,
and beheld a woman whose hair was
loose upon her shoulders,
and ran like rivers of onyx down her back,
But her cheeks were pale and hollow,
her eyes were the ghosts of despair,
And I saw that her beauty was of paint and desperation,
for I looked upon her with the eyes of my spirit.
I beckoned to her and gave her to drink
from the carven chalice of the Goddess of Life,
I clothed her in the cloak of the Queen of the World,
and I bowed down before her and worshipped her
for the sake of her soul and mine own immortality.

And behold, she is transformed from a poor and nameless mortal
and is become the Queen of Heaven,
And she is myself and all women,
for are not all women the Queen of Heaven
and the Mother of the Universe?
She is the heart of the dark night
when the light of the stars is become shimmering
and filled with glory,
And I beheld them and was made small and humble at the infinity
of the Timeless one who is forever longing
and is forever denied,
For once filled, she was alone, yet never alone
for all of her children are with her.

Are we not the vision in the eye of the unmanifested soul of the
Eternal One who dreams all creation.
Are we not the dream?

Is not the woman of the street the breathing of the sadness
of the eternal loss of eternal despair?
Is she not the song of youth that rises unbidden
from the lips of the Keeper of Mystery?

Rise up from the bed of anguish
and cloth thyself in the robes of joy,
For Mother is within thee
and thou art the Heart of the Queen of Heaven.
She is the Dawn of Hope,
and She is the evening of celebration.
She is the feast and the Maker of the feast.
She is the end and the beginning.
There is no journey but for Her and She is the journey.
She is the streaming silver light
at the source of the river of infinity.
Behold the Mother of All who is among you!

Behold Her in Her abundance,
and in the graying hair that falls upon the wrinkled cheek
of the homeless wretches
that the petty kingdoms of man have created.
Behold Her in the smile of a maiden who has scorned her
innocence and discovered the first unfolding of love
in the embrace of her Chosen one.
Behold Her in the dance of the one
who would be shamed by the lust of men
and who rises above it and dances instead
for the dream of the Goddess.
Behold Her in the song of the exalted among mortals
and know that all are equal and all are the Queen of Heaven.
She is above all anguish.

She is all anguish in the souls of the righteous
and the souls of those who are cast out,
reviled for Her sake.
She shall visit the children of unutterable despair,
and they shall be clothed in Her kisses,
She who grants all prayers shall dream for them
the serenity that lies at the center
of the oceans of space.

Despair not, ye women of Earth,
Sing to the Queen of Heaven,
and remember the sinuous dance of the women of Euralia
who have done away with war and with sorrow,
And who have built temples of unknown jewels
and unknown shimmering precious metals
for the worship of the Eternal Mother,
And they have torn down the temples,
cast off their rich raiment,
run through forests of spice ferns and amber trees
clad only in the sky.
For they remember that the stars belong to all,
and are riches untold,
And the stars are raiment enough.

 



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