creatrix

"The Mind is like a God, that governs all; the imaginations, like Nature, that created all; the Brain, as the onely Matter on which all Figurative Thoughts are printed, and formed; Or the Mind is like an infinite Nature, having no Dimention nor Extension, and the Thoughts are like Infinite Creatures therein."
-Margaret Cavendish, Duchess of Newcastle, The World's Olio.

      White waters page,
           Black firmament ink,
                     And I,
                               Creatrix,
                     Move above.

I breathe a warm wind,
          Wine and tobacco,
                     And pray my Creature comes to life.

This fine madness,
          Which rightly or by rights should posess my Brain,
                     my Promethean soul
          (and will I find my creature hideous?
                     My ill-formed offspring?
                               My mutant Adam?
                               Or will I alone find it beautiful,
                     And sing it
                               proudly off-key to a cringing world?)
This fine madness a Sheltie,
           And I a wandering sheep.
                     (and I softly bleat to myself,
                                "Ewe are a Goddess.")

And I weave a word-woolen world:               warp and woof.
I, breath-giver               Fata, Fortuna, Femina.
They live, these lines, at my command,              die at my direction.

You may enter this world of my creating,
          And you may change my soul,
But nothing I propose to do will now be impossible.