Obeisant totemic form
obedient to my will,
around me silent waters spill
their visual storm.
Pavilions and broken oaths agree
to the dismantling of a world.
Gold the points of curled
flame, incense and free
laughter in the lordly halls.
Incomparable, the lovely wound
with which the pythoness draws
the wrung god’s ultimate sound;
priestess as the world falls
supplicant of shadows on bare ground.