What if my vagina became a lotus flower and the earth was the pedal’s stool at my feet what if I gave you my soul to devour and each word you spat I could not even speak
Spoken in languages only stars could conceive celestial bodies only galaxies could see
Buried treasures only cosmic pirates could find and seek
The universe as my playground with moons,stars and planets at my reach
To move as I please and change how I see fit
Milky ways and belts that stretch dimensions black holes of dark matter to capture any shooting stars blink
I would rest upon my infinite seat and make worlds; first time spans and critique beings of design, unique patterns; blue prints even of Gods from Majestic places
Blending a high priestess’ pot with dashes of star dust moon rock and sun’s brew. an inevitable elixir of devine wisdom’s cure. Balance of wings only made for Ascension
Sight of eyes only made to lead

~ism