by Nick Gisburne
I put you in the belly of a snake,
To grow, before Creation could prepare.
Be patient, precious daughter. Wait, to wake,
To fly where gods and demons never dare.
Damnation is too dreary, drab, for you.
Your majesty will shatter light, and love.
The lords of Hell and Heaven always knew
Their doom would be delivered by a dove.
When good and evil fracture, splinter, split,
A third, pernicious state of pain shall rise.
Demeaned before the throne on which you sit,
Let those who beg be deafened by their cries.
The universe will find its place, its worth,
Extinguished at the moment of your birth.
