Outfoxing the Furies

Fluid the medium by which we desire,

Heavy the limits to which we aspire

To lift ourselves free, on the wings of a dove,

To practise perfection by drinking his blood.

The illusion of earth is splintering fast

As we grab at the air, as we fall at the last:

Witchery, Witan, Wicca and Wizard

Pursuing the furies is why we are feared.

Opening up space and stretching out time

In a flurry of words at thirty a dime.

Walk through the air, glance down at the heights,

Sublimity scares us, like the darkness of light:

In this cauldron of water, fire, earth and air

See! The silent assassin’s infected snare.