I am the vine that men climb. I carry the song that will spiral Wanderers, the lost, the dead seeking redemption from my womb that is chaotic with dead things and through my Eye I will return what was wept in the beginning. I am the warrior who is announced by the thunder and the S/he who destroys all within her path. If I speak my breath would devastate all creation around me, and even the gods fear my gaze; and yet, they seek my embrace, pray to enter my mind womb. I am the whore dancing in the market place. I am the one who hairs snakes through creation when anger, lust, envy, jealousy knocks at my heart. I am the male mother, the heart of a planet. I am the abandoned child weeping in the wilderness. I am loved, yet, I am tormented by my lovers. I am Death and I am its Consort. I carry my Beloved in my mind awaiting his birth from the wound in my head.
I am one who sings in the choir that binds creation; and yet, I am the song that is song. I am the holder of the Eye of Life. I am the fire that comes forth from the Eye to heal, to love, to bring life, to bring death. I am intoxicated on the wounds of the dying and I drink the tears of children abused. I am feared and the Dead weep for me while the living tremble like children under a leaf and I sleep in many tombs waiting to be remembered, waiting for my Beloved. I waiting, waiting - for the Eye to bring the Life.
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Uthra is here - please contact Lorenzo Buford for more information.