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Poetry by Gereg Jones Muller

Wicker Song



I go down,
to rise stronger.
To Death now I deliver me.
Into Earth's belly I
am furrowed. Reaped, I am sown.
I go down to Death,
to rise stronger.

By My own dark twin
I am slain, by My Lady's
new lover. My force
slips away, an eagle.
My ill omen is an owl,
flower-face.

Swallowed, a grain of corn,
I am carried. Carried,
I am born, an egg from the fire.
I will hatch with the harvest.
I ripen with the rise.
I go down to Death,
to rise stronger.

Mother Death's arms
cannot confine me. Defeat
I shall make my victory.
I go down,
to rise stronger.

Wicker Song

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