Astonish Or Admonish Me
I diffidently conjure the sorrowful emerald entity
from the deepest depths of my elbow of despair.
I do not abhor her, but I also do not trust her.
Likewise, I rather revere and worship her.
She validated my grief when I was in the wailing keening stage.
Sapphire orbs transmogrify into lilting, lively, lovely butterflies.
Porcelain staunchness furthers her into an aloof position.
Astonish me, she whispers, in an ethereal, frightening way.
Or admonish me, she says a little too loudly. Then she laughs.
It is a maniacal laugh that frightens me.
I watch this amazingly mystical, magical creature evolve
and revolve during the crescent moon’s change of clothes.
There is a sense of wonder, yet, also a feeling of regret
Possibly remorse?
She admirably fills the corners of my grief state
There is a glimpse of enthusiasm, a quick interval.
I devote myself to the task of understanding
the sensitivity of her resolve and revolve.
For she has been to visit me many times.
And I have no doubt she will return.
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