The light on the icon,
the way I see her in my dreams,
the core of her at the edge of darkness
in a magic cauldron always full—
never exhausted—
that brings her back to life,
guarded by a golden serpent
coiled in the shape of an egg,
the world snake marshaling
inner reserves,
the seed of a new journey,
a glimpse of a mysterious and elusive
woman crowned with morning glories.
This is how she lands on the page,
slanted, looking out in space,
integrated within me
save the blue sky across her face.
Poem by Hélène Cardona
Illustration Artist Unknown.
The Guild of Mythographers 