Queen of Cups Spell

It's not a spine-tingling mystery
that loving mingling was not a part of my history.
Generations going way back
learned not to nurture, but instead, to attack.
Their angers and fears
enveloped neglect and tears
until madness and badness grew with the years.

Yet still, 
I trill
out my mating call
in the spring and also the fall
with hopes I'll spawn and my future can change it all.

After I carefully place my eggs onto the floor,
father will water them until they mature.
Right after they hatch, 
I carry them onto my back.
I pool each tadpole
at the base of a petal.
Then every night with delight
I come by with my kettle.
I sprinkle and tinkle 
until their cups twinkle
and winkle with unfettered bettered.

I feed them a diet rich with affection
so that they have a source of endless protection.
The toxic poison of my past
will make their lives long last,
if any danger near them is cast.

I stay just far enough away to share my mettle
but not so gross-close that I might meddle.
My courage is my medal,
a badge I keep on my cheek
that reminds me to be sweet
instead of wreak havoc or pique.

A tear drop of shame 
became a heart full of flame
that grows brighter and hotter with each and every aim.

Our cups are filled to the absolute brim
with the magic of our hope that's distilled within.
Each little dream will hop into reality
and share with the world its guarantee:
Parent with love and repair the family tree.
Be brave instead of weak!
Bring forth to the world that which you desperately seek!

Under the plants, under the babies we've nurtured,
there grows an underground network, a miraculous orchard.
A smectic mycelium of electric stretches beyond imagination 
and touches upon and supports the entire nation.
It whispers in the woods the secrets of creation.

The trees and the plants spread their seed over the ground
and give unto the land the new understanding they've found.
The fruits of our labor smile with happiness and love
with the thought that earth's been made heaven below and above.