The Goddess Of The Stones

P. McCoy

Let me drink of this your water,

Cause chaos chases the city,

Elements losing their steads in great shatter,

Things are falling off their hooks,

Pandemonium plays centre stage with plight in my soul;

leaving this plain in grave brouhaha,

Yes, its very foundation shook,

I could barely tell my left from my right.

As two weird giant rocks like a wrecking ball,

Take charge to damn my soul with hurl,

I tried to flee from the scene,

As much as I ran I couldn’t beat these weird giant stones,

They fell almost immediately,

They obeyed the voice of the goddess of the stones simultaneously,

Locking me out of my space,

Of course, my confidence was out of place.

The scene enclosed my soul in the abyss of everlasting destruction,

I could only peep and see reflection;

of faint light,

My call for mayday was useless,

None there to help me fight,

I knew I will never be heard even though I tried forever,

I screamed out softly in a wailing voice,

‘Let me drink of this your water.’

I shouted out from my soul encore,

I reached for the inner solace of my heart;

to summon the goddess of the stones,

Indeed, she was soft-hearted,

Cause she pulled out a part of herself;

it’s still a mystery how she breaks away herself,

The first stone she pulled from beneath cracked,

I felt the scenario hacked.

Each of the stones cackling like chickens in panic struggles,

And suddenly, off to the ground,

I struggled to pull through the rubbles,

I cared less about the looming troubles,

For again I’ll experience this plain,

And my soul felt well rescued,

All I could hear was my voice;

echoing my plea in that pit of stone saying: ‘Let me drink of this your water.’

My ever merciful and most gracious;

gorgeous goddess of the stones.