Gwynevere's lament

caught up in the wind
  whispers of the lake
and its keeper
  remind us of our grievous sins
our punishment
  as Sisyphus’s
to silently and solemnly
    carry out our sins
again


the mountains gossip
  as the Excalibur glistens
in the unreachable unknown
  I dare not reach for
the possibility of failing
  I push my sin intensely
to new heights


Beltane fires burn
as naked bodies sin
    under the heavens’ watch
heavy breathing;
  drops of sweat on their sex;
    moisture and fluids back into the earth;

the most  passionate chanting
  to my pagan gods will not
help me
open the gates of Avalon

seconds before
  my sin careens down again
I wonder
 
    if all of my forceful efforts
are not to keep the gates
shut