Bhairavi at the Sixth Hour

Here’s a recent piece based on the photo prompt from Flash!Friday.

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She Whose Body Is In The World rose from her lotus rooted in neither impermanence nor permanence, male nor female and poured her ambrosial essence. Marvelous and preciously adorned in molten gold, she illumined the universe age after age and when the sun reached its zenith, the world fixed in stability, the perpetual sacrifice of the beheaded was born.

And with the consummation of the sacrifice she watched that which was born with the creation, so many eons ago, take shape at the sixth hour.

She came from the north.

It came from the south.

She, in her smoky crimson glow, called herself Fearful Goddess of the Three Cities . Her hands soft and gentle, she slowly, silently, voluptuously did the work of death. And in her wake she left the grand and final conflagration.

It all started when the dreamers ceased to dream and the dancers ceased to dance.


2 thoughts on “Bhairavi at the Sixth Hour

  1. Beautiful & lyrical picture of death. Looked the goddess up on the Internet to learn more. Saw a similar description…especially the phrasing of the hands. Was yours a quote? If not, you have an incredible memory! The vision of her burns brightly hours after my first read.

    Liked by 1 person

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