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🔱 The Valkyrie's Retreat🔱

lyre-and-muse.jpg


Orpheus' lyre, it is said,
tamed the wildest of beasts.
The vicious and vile creatures who defile
the soul, the mind
are now making way
to the place where there is no lyre,
where there is nothing but a waning fire,
remnants of a forgotten Eurydice.
The demons,
they'd surely devour one's heart,
if in there I did not keep echoes of
my name in your voice.
And the demons shriek, one after another
as one after another, they are simply
torn apart.
​
 
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"But she will wait her turn
Absent from concern
The furnace inside her
It burns and burns and burns."​
 
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And so, it began.
The brutal clash of bodies, minds and wills.
until none of us could further withstand.
If clothes you wore still,
I'd rip them off to dress you with my hands, my fingers, my nails,
my lips, my tongue, my teeth.
Dress you in the finest attire no money can acquire.
If anyone were to see the patterns
so carefully or brashly sewn by me,
they'd surely wonder, as a question stirs.
Your only reply,

"Hers."
​
 
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“I will place my hand in that flame and feel nothing. I will ask nobody’s forgiveness again.”

— Franz Wright, from God’s Silence: Poems; “Reparations”

​
 
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Mheriis pâkse, mheraas khôro.​
 
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And if tomorrow, tonight, by any chance, I'm in someone else's bed?

I cannot be contained, broken or tamed.
I do not belong. Not here, not anywhere.
I belong to no one, no one but myself.

The only claims upon me will come to be, once my time is done.

Should the Earth claim me, may it welcome me in its embrace and allow me to be one again, with its core.
Should Water claim me, may it quietly lull me and wash away any pain I may have caused.
Should Fire claim me, may it fiercely consume my body and burn all the wrong bridges I ever crossed.
Should the Wind claim me, may it carry me and make my soul soar like never before.

No one, no one can or will impose any claims upon me.

If one insists, it'll be the pursuit of an illusion. An illusion which leaves a trail of ghosts in its wake.

— Journal Entries, December 201X​
 
That...
That would require a heart, in the first place. ​
 
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The need for greater heights,
Greater flights
Surpasses all.
Slowly, I drown
In the vastness of your voice,
In the whisper which brings no choice
Other than the one my treacherous body
Already made.
And the darkness claims
Another into its depths.
And soon, I forget.
How it came to be,
"No one, no one,
But the Moon below me."​
 
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"And, if there ope some
door
Of refuge, some strong tower to shield me, good:
In craft and darkness I will hunt this blood.
Else, if mine hour be come and no hope nigh,
Then sword in hand, full-willed and sure to die,
I yet will live to slay them.
So help me,
She who of all Gods hath been
The best to me, of all my chosen queen
And helpmate, Hecatê, who dwells apart,
The flame of flame, in my fire's inmost heart:
For all their strength, they shall not stab my soul and laugh thereafter! Dark and full of dole
Their bridal feast shall be, most dark the day.
(...)
Thou know'st the way;
And God hath made thee woman, things most vain
For help, but wondrous in the paths of pain."

— Medea, Euripides​
 
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Not at all. All are welcome.

Thank you for the addition. Here's some 🍺 to soothe dry lips and souls.
 
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