The Scribe

A poem of the chosen path

Photo by Lady Escabia from Pexels

You prefer the depths found in solitude
A steady awakening to the fury of the world
Measured, controlled, disciplined
Bind your limbs, construct for creativity
Elemental chaos dances before you
Do you recognize your voice through the swell?

Desire derails you
A quick dip into the underworld
Hecate, Anubis, Lilith?
Where am I?
Your drunkenness, you remember it well
How long can you wear that decadence?

Turn away from crushed velvet, silks & diadems
Your cloak is made of finer shroud
Sing to me, I beg you
Make my body quiver and contort
I want inside
You must find another way

Worry not; the field of reeds awaits you
Encrusted with emeralds from the tombs of pharaohs
Golden lotus flowers and carnelian Isis wings embrace you
Here you weave spells of enchantment and protection

Leave this business of temple dancers
You are the scribe now
Order the words, make them dance and delight
Leave your offering at the temple where the pylons kiss the sky
Drink the blood of this new place, and you will know divinity

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Wendy S. Bradfield

A cosmos-driven Egypt-based writer of broken dreams with a motivational flair. I write about love, life, and Egypt. Check me out at