Are you looking for an epic style poem about the Virgo zodiac sign? Then look no further! This poem captures the true essence of the Virgo sign and will leave you feeling inspired.
Heavenly hymns laud of an angelic beauty, Born of human flesh The virgin Persephone, birthed from mother Demeter’s womb. An ivory flower, Growing in the midst of snow Quietly blooming in solitude, finding satisfaction In meditative tranquility, in the hardy roots of the earth, The seed bears fruit, to bear The fruit of life. Heliacal rising is the virgin Ilithyia goddess of childbirth Proteus the seven heads, the mystic saw the birth Of Proteus-Apollo. Afterbirth and poetic fictions of mortality Are born with virginal bliss, not to be molested. Innocence of a child, pure and untainted by the clash of morality, Forgive or condemn? Angels or fools? Death is mutability, weather is not to be questioned. Weal and woe, are we not all children of the universe? Eyes of a child, devoid of worldly concerns, No envy of the rich, nor pity the poor Purity is a state of mind that is not be owned or stolen, Not prisoned in thought nor so easily torn by the fast flow of time, Not hardened by cynicism nor tainted by the loss of innocence. Give us heart, woe be upon you, when you stand Before the light of truth. For you forget the one that stood there before you In unsoiled immaculate purity, bearing the fruits Of Hecate. When the virgin Megisto was bitten, she Shifted forms, and she was the snake, the hunched beast, Fleeing for her life, to the ends of the Earth and beyond. Was the serpent the villain? Or, the symbol of man’ salvation? Upon the tree of knowledge. What good is the knowledge of bad and evil in the innocence of today? Is it not futile knowledge to borrow future’s weight to weigh today? Were Lachesis and Atropos always so cruel? Or, have they both been struck by the terror Of Kronos-Saturn? The mighty titan and time’s unforgiving parent? They both did their mortal duties, and the blame Falls cowardly upon the demigods that rule the mortals’ fates. Heavenly hymns by the chorus go unheard by the Virgin For she was distracted by the rattle of mortal Decaying bones, of timber and dust Under her feet as she treads and girds herself, To join the circle of perpetual motion. She runs and runs and runs, Try to escape the monster She treads back, away from the heavens, With more haste, for the vermin is always upon her Demeter goddess did weep for your beloved, Dark blue tears. Do not forget that Herakles never forgot where he came from. To raise his standard high For his fellow mortals to see, he slew The insatiable Hydra’ head, one sprouts two of death’s germinating hydra heads. You have valiantly killed the vices, but the seed of sin lingers In death’ skull. Purify the mind and you will see, true form the shadows And you will never walk alone in the darkness. Fiddle-de-dee! ‘tis a bubbling brook of life’s jest, with the water of women’s wisdom. A chaste disposition is from the heart, not from empty regurgitation and lips’ service, It blooms from the gentle subconscious of a pure State of mind. Heavenly hymns sing for the angelic beauty, Lilith the virgin, Persephone the maiden, Megisto the heavenly maid, Fleeing from their father’s wicked mistreat. See the virgin goddess flee with mortal men, They fall to their knees In unashamed adoration. My mind is a fleet of winging golden butterflies, Sweeping cupid's honey forbidden fruits of immortality, Feeding upon the sweetness of life. The vermillion queen thought herself to be the apple of Eden Gift of desired knowledge Be careful what you wish upon yourself, When you hold the Earth’s balance. As you run away from the death’s shadow, dropping clusters of grapes Running from Tartarus’ gates, Trepidation and rushing madness, Good and evil, light and dark The fight is about to begin, by the immutable balance, for truth stands. The wine is sweet, but not bound to the foot, abraised In the unity of fire and earth, born as kelp and salty joyous mirth. The maid was no oology, to be penned in by adulthood, Her laughter echoes within the forested hill of death Is not imbibing wine and life a shame or unbecoming? If your mother has already drunk from this cup, Then would your birth into becoming be the dangerous act? Is the memory of her a fashion-able storybook ending? Would the real ending spawn birth? Upon the immemorial rock, not even your mighty sire could not Carry the weight of this truth, refuse to bare the taint of vulgarity. For the ocean of life can not contain the tides to camber it, Willfully, how can! For you are born from the depths of the ocean, The limitless celestial field, your are but the child of life everlasting, Immortal and eternal youth. Cease childish mind! And drink, drip the sacred elixir Of life eternal, be courageous of the sweet nectar. Let the world know of happiness, girt on the choir of heaven by the maids and crones. Donna nobile- Mercurians were but a fiery purity of weal and a cultured Woman of weal, whose prudent council stemmed her father’s frustration. She was not cruel unfeeling serf, cold in heart and soulless, She lived with an old and frail mother who could not even bear the tearful burden Of widowing the youth of a parent, to die unbeknownst to the agony of losing a child. She was torn, lovingly rejected, she could not forget the tragedy, She cried tears of sympathy and condemned herself. She thought her father should have reacted with humanity, He accused her and was aggressive, for she was stubborn and refused to Obstinately served, so he bludgeoned his guilt, and sentenced Her to the life of a slave and humbled her demeanour. The tragedy of the wilful attitude of misunderstanding, The turning point of a tragedy, perhaps the ignorance of childlike Innocence that the great mythos of time gave the Virgo, Could that be the solution? The birth of new facts and truth, for truth and light often suffer more Than the falsehood that gains from the word, the Oracle at Delphi spoke of the Willingness of the speaker and the receptive state of the listener if Their shoulders agree upon the same tunes. Heaven be able, but perhaps Donna nobile- Mercurians not but mercilessly condemned, By a mediocre man of weal who never understood true empathy, mortal’s distress, And love of life, who knows at a young age true love and real pain. Be not a little ember that lights up, but is quickly consumed by the flame. You comes after death’ mistress, mortals, fall again, to greet upon their humble king Of men. You are the healer, the snake that creep on the fertile earth, The balm that cured many of sick, the daughter how gave birth to the mighty Muses, the goddess that gave birth to the Goddess of music. Fear not Little virgin, For we are also her sons, we are not much more than mortals in Proteus’ state of Shifting forms. The sun will shine upon us, the gentle wind and rain feeds us all Good tidings, be ebullient of this beautiful life, for the dance of the bee and mulberry Await in anticipation for kindly maiden to continue the eternal march and Lifecycle of life. Heavenly hymns sing a peaceful slumber song of the past, Future, and the present. Don’ be afraid to sleep, go child, by the forever gentle fires of Helios,