The Pilgrimage
Every six turns of the moon
A journey to the girl I take.
I leave behind my safe cocoon
Into the noise and into the fake.
The pungent smell of multicolours
Punching nose and mind alike.
I sit and pause in splendid parlours
Waiting for the joy to strike.
And strike it does, oh glory be.
Electric sparks and lowing moans.
At last she uses teeth on me.
Her gentle strokes, my buzzing bones.
Decisions made I walk to water.
She will wash my sins away.
She mentions something of her daughter,
I've never answered to this day.
In my goddess tank I float.
Blues and greens with sea and sand.
I am the castle, and they are the moat.
At last the call comes from the land.
She leads me to the gate and smiles.
Our deal is done, the job complete.
My world is lighter by the miles.
I smile and wave then walk the street.
My pilgrimage is at an end;
Returning to my warm cocoon.
She and I will meet again.
After six turns of the moon.
Copyright © Kylie Evans | Year Posted 2023
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