Chosen

Beckoned by the moon's light,

Spirit lifted out of form.

A kiss upon her salty skin and in a haste

her soul was gone.

Through ghastly fields she meandered,

Strangers bellowed out her name,

'Do not go to the river, child!'

Do not go, they implored, in vain.

But sagacious winds sang their songs

Compelling the temptress to advance.

And like a creature from their lore,

Their eyes fixated to her...entranced.

Upon the river's bank she rose

A vision to behold.

Head, heart and hands turned into flames

Her skin, perhaps, to gold.

Ancestors began to clamor

Hearts beating and bleeding in sync.

They proffered up their sins & glories in

cups for her to drink.

Dreaming souls have come before

All heeded the dire warnings;

And those tired spirits have slipped back

home to bodies worn out from yearning.

Angels and vixens, wind and fire,

Silver dripping from the skies.

Who dare meet in this surreal divide?

Where upon the full moon spies.