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Witch’s Brewing
High above and below mid sky
in the lower heavens from up high
where witches gather and conspire,
congregations of satanic disciples,
the clashing of the hot and cold,
aerial staged battle for dominance,
Conquistador of the skies,
Sultan of the universe
and spaces further beyond,
the quest for the throne,
the credo written in warrior’s blood,
the sweat of the witches,
the brewing of anger and quasi anger,
a piling up of hate upon hate,
haunted black and gray and ire,
of serpents wrapping around serpents,
slithering through each other
with their sweaty bodies,
swirling around in the witch’s pot
as war clouds go to war,
arrial beasts born of a heated anger
with lightning streaming from their eyes,
booming voices that shake the universe,
cursing at the order of the skies,
the passive air that hangs above the earth
under the feet of the Sun Gods,
the limpid movement of the still wind,
the passionless mood of the sky,
pelting rain mixed with fire
down to the placid face of the ground,
home of the helpless forests,
until the stored up anger
ran out of its arsenals
and fell upon the earth
and went to sleep in the
solitude of the meadows.
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