A poem…

This one I wrote while at Feri Camp during Thorn’s and my class on creativity:

Women of Song
©2009 Storm Faerywolf

There is a meadow down below
where women sing a velvet tune
and dance within the golden sun
and praise Diana of the moon.

With lilting voices raised up high
into the open azure sky
a prayer is made on wings of song
To keep the covenant to which we all belong.

Verdant grass beneath their feet
How soft! How lush! How earthen sweet.
Greets their prayers with upward blade
And here it is their living bed is made.

Priestess! Lover! Harlot! Teacher!
You who hold the space of honor’s kiss
Unveil thy mystery! I am, behold:
Seduced by terror, seduced by holy bliss.

Name that Quote (please)

I remember reading, somewhere, a little statement about Sufism that really stuck with me, and I’d like to use it in the book I am writing, but I can’t remember where I read it. 😦 I’ve used it (or at least the gist of it) several times as an example of ecstasy and so I’d really like to use it. It goes something like this:

“All Muslim’s, when they die, expect to see the face of God. Sufis are not that patient.”