Poetry
This is the general category of fuckery that goes on and on and doesn’t seem interested in stopping.
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Governess of fortune, the destinies of cities,
The giver of luck.
The one who takes the blame for bad fortune when all she is, is a watcher of fortune.
Five cents, the golden coin, the passer of luck,
When asked kindly.
No comments on Tyche -
The piper the satyr.
The wild, the nature that flows between, the flocks.
Guide of those sheep lost, the player, the mountaineer.
Child of the messenger and the lover.
Mislabeled, kind and dancing in the forest.
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The son of the earth, the ocean, the one who never got what he deserved.
Too much pressure under pressure.
Released with kindness and understanding, awakened by the one who was set to end him.
Shape shifting not so much trickster.
Foolish occasionally, kind when he feels it.
The wolf and the raven and the bringer of quakes.
His wife who shut him out, to discover what freedom tastes like.
Wild.
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The Earth’s Mother goddess.
The one who gives us life, our temporary home,
The place we should be protecting.
The one we can’t replace.
The world that was perfect, before humans had human traits.
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The goddess of love. The beautiful, bright, the sexual.
From the seas with the dolphins, the rose at her side, the shell and Myrtle
The dove over her shoulder.
Belt of pearls, mirror at her hip.
Her flying swan.
Her children.
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Messenger, runner, oracle theif.
Fastest in this system,
Bringer of the spirits.
The athletes, the travelers,
Those who cross the lines.
Tortoise and rooster.
Lyre and helmet.
Winged sandals and rod.
The snakes pin and wings.
Elucidating Questions 