Within two pillars, a turning point,
Twixt old and new, to her head anoint.
With promise of secret paths aligned,
A price too high and much maligned.
Split crescent moon, a world disjoint
Leaving sword, chalice, pentacle and staff,
Confused and naive, I heard her laugh.
With a smile which didn’t reach her eyes,
A knowing glance both sinister and wise.
Hinting at truths on her behalf
Scrolls opened to burn up at her feet,
So she bathed and wallowed in the heat.
Of wisdom and their heady choice,
Decision posed, an inner voice.
But danger beckoned, to chaos wreak