A Priestess's Dream

Heir to the Land of Gates

When I was born, it is said the placenta looked like lace

I know not what that means, only that perhaps I wasn't meant for this place.

They cut me from my mother's womb and she cradled my tiny preemie face

Unable to be birthed, a whole month early, modern medicine was my saving grace

The next closest entity to me, was death, like a patient lady in wait

To the future queen of a spirit gate

Not long after the universe decided it was time my second brush was sate.

A great crash on a the freeway, to stop the heart rate.

I did not survive that day, in another fate.

But in this branch my brush has made

I survived this first encounter and continue to serve, write and create.

Death visits me often, but not without toll

First it took my grandma, born of the same goal.

she was born in lace also, we are of the same whole.

Her death made me realize it's not the end, but can be a family reunion, an eternal party or stroll.

Through the earth's wonders unabated with no booths for toll.

Next, It's taken one uncle, and my pater for an eternal stroll.

That's 5 brushes in total.

Through these brushes my vision clears to crystality

Death is not the end, but an interesting opportunity

For those strong enough to hold their own on the astral sea

Most spirits stick around to sightsee, or simply keep key

Many ancestors have stuck around simply to keep and eye on family.

Grandpa is the one I sense most often, he was most curious about me.

Mother's father who died long before I was ever even thought of to be conceived.

He died of a broken heart, but he's more than happy

Through death he has much more family than he ever thought could be.

I suppose in a way, death is family.

I will sit and guard this spirit gate,
With death as my lady in wait
As an eternal princess and guardian of our spirit gate
I do not mourn the dead, for I know the opportunity that awaits
There are many many different pearly gates
Not just one, or two like the books say.

Each gate is different, each key innate.

As a being of the in between, I love my gate, just like I love death for being a constant mate.

We chat a lot and hold picnics outside our gate.

My dress is old and beautiful, I hold a parasol of silver, stained glass and agate

cloaked in a richness only spirits can create

One day I'll throw large soirées in their names

Erect all their old temples and resurrect their fames

Return to them the glory of long past

I will gather our people again I swear it with the spells I cast

The gods will reign again, and the gifts they will grant are vast.