Lady of the Lake, your petticoats are better nets,
Bitter nets, finer woven, hoarding.
Wear robes, wear plaster, with a child held high.
The halo is tarnished. Waves, sand, will polish
To your preference.
Lady of the Lake, shake your hair, loosen torcs,
Let it drift free of it's hoard.
Clean. Comb the strands.
Wear veils that constrict, where nothing enters to
Shelter storms. Tides.
Hear no words to sway.
Lady of the Lake, open your hands, let gold flow.
Jewels float with night-lumin eyes, rainbow shells.
Wear no closed fingers by day or night.
No closed lips, unsmiling.
Release  words to call hope from the depths,
Not from Heaven.
There is no mortgage to pay
On Heaven.