Conjuring SpiritsA Poem by Muse
THUMP...THUMP...THUMP.....taleeeee de tat!
Mystical voices permission the concussion
a seismic energy summoned within her rapture.
Invoking an archaic beat beneath her feet,
fire and sky are now freed spirits to conjure.
Possessed by compassion, intrigue, and myth,
she sashays around weightless within her trance.
Drums transpire like water filling her thirst,
fluid in her movements and prophetic dance.
Adorned with shadows of silver and gold,
she shimmers in moonstone and tourmaline.
Timely rhythm made flawless by her skirting,
in a feminine display of Goddess and shrine.
Eyes closed she channels the spirits of old, the feeling of serenity to make her forget.
A past whisper to cool the fire and swither,
she pauses to absorb the nights silhouette.
She's now without concept of dimension or self,
the beating drums now sedated and slow.
The air humms of wisdom that satiates her soul, listen she does....for these voices from long ago.
© 2014 MuseFeatured Review
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