Ninlil…

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Infant mortality… Perhaps… Was more of a problem… Back then… And cot death… May have been… Just as much… A mystery… As in our time… The Goddess holds… The ring and rod… Apart!… Or to put it another way… She is the thing… Or better… Being… Which links them… She also stands upon… What look… Suspiciously… Like the Egyptian… Lions of yesterday… And tomorrow… Both chimera’s of time… On either side of them… Are identical Owls… Which may mean… We move… From wisdom… To wisdom… In wisdom’s quest… Owls… And… Wisdom?… They hunt in the night!

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Hunting at night… Is a good description… Of meditation… What we’re really looking for… Is those morsels of memory… Which glow… In the darkness… When our gaze… Alights upon them… It may only be a spark of light… Or a sliver… Which initially attracts our attention… Our grubby mitts of focus… And thought… Scrape away… With dirty fingernails… At the morsel… Revealing more… And more… Of the light… Until all the darkness has… Dissipated… Leaving us… With a shiny jewel… Which we pop… Into our mouth… Swallow whole… And fly away.

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If Ninlil… Is the gel that makes… The symbol of sovereignty… Whole… Then she is the fabric… Of time… Itself… She is the forerunner… Of Isis the throne… That is… The seat of power… Every stronghold… Nestles in the contours… Of Earth… After-all… Our Demon-Kings are apt to forget this… Being born of the air… They have little truck… With the earth… And those who dwell within her… Which is why… They lack empathy… And humility… And all the other attributes… Which make for a successful comprehension… Of where we actually are…  And precisely why…