The Robe

She sits in the old leather chair of calling,
her naked flesh tingling less from the cold chamber's air
than the icicles of anticipation over what will happen
once she passes through the massive redwood doors
that speak with the chants of priests guardians
knowing inside her future waits with promises of pain and ecstasy.

For there the guild of time sorcerers prepares
to drape her in the shimmering emerald robe for her coronation
as Queen of her world,
being a princess transcending the quite serenity of a carefree life,
for the duties of a monarch.

But she knows from the secret council of light witches
how the moment she dons her garments
the weave will summon in her mind
all the memories of her people's past,
feeling their sufferings and joys,
so she will be able to rule with wisdom.

In her soul will burn the power of celestial incantations
shedding her innocence for the awakening
where her mind will drink from a chalice of starlight
stirring stunning images of ancient wisdom's spirits.

Yet she knows, this short trip to her destiny
will also bring its searing seconds of agony
a brief burden of screams to purge her life
from any lingering essence in selfishness.

Then the power of love will glow in perfect harmony,
allowing her to ascend the silver throne
that exists in the alabaster castle riding in the clouds
where the anointed king, her betrothed, seen only in her sleep
shall embrace her for the first time.

With her mind racing in a thousand unanswered questions
the next few minutes are walked on a tightrope of passions,
insides swimming tempest sea in thoughts,
half of her wishing for the past and fearing the future
while the other feels relief to at least have her dream finally become reality.