The Offering

I returned to the smell

of incense in the air

Her favorite from monks

in Italy

Did you throw incense in my fire,

I asked,

perturbed and wondering its effect

on the Seed to be roasted.

No, She said and I saw

by the bed

the small censer

with their offering

So I returned

to the fields

gathered murta and louro

and two times seven Seed

sprouted and not

And took in my hands 

the iron submitted to Her Will

Opened and placed the offering

of myrtle

laurel

and acorns within,

covered,

and placed on the ashes

of Her desire.

And in the fullness of Time,

O Patience! of Time,

they opened, the Fruits offered,

spreading wide their riven shells

to expose

the naked essence,

perfumed in Glory.