A poem for our Mother



This is a moment of creation. This is the sound that makes.

This is the womb of creation. This is the place of silence.

She tells her story from this place. She hears the heartbeat and knows intelligence is taking form. Threads of her embrace weave a web. She dances. There she goes unfolding her robes. Stretching across an ocean blooming silently. Yes, yes she knows.

She travels vast distances with her sound, with her threads weaving, weaving, weaving.

And there in that vastness, there a vision of light ripples through her body like electricity. There, this vision with a life of its own takes hold. And the threads embrace this intelligence that in her womb rests.

The heartbeat unified with her own. The heartbeat of a child unborn. In her womb she holds her own deepest vision. The vision of a universe waiting, waiting to unfold.

A dream undreamed before. A story yet to be known. Here in this moment of birth, the Mother knows she is the vessel.

Oh! And she beholds the magic born from her very womb she holds the vision most pure. Daughter of the Sun in the womb of the infinite. A creation of beauty. A mirror of that vision of light.

And the journey begins there, hidden, hidden within the seed. And the Daughter knows, she knows her Mother is imbued in her being.

I thank you Mother.

Here I am.

Here I am.

Here I am.

Birthed from your womb you have given me all that I need. And I offer to you what I have seen. I have moved through those dark corridors of the dream. I have emerged from those depths still holding this seed. This seed Mother, that you bore in your womb. In that emptiness you received and you gave. I am your child. I am my Mother. I am my Mother’s Mother. I am my Mother’s Mother’s Mother. I am her hosting in this body the life of every woman that has come before and in my body caring for those yet unborn. In this body I host them all and let them all come through.

Her beauty. Her sacrifice. Her love. Her sorrow. Her yearning. Her fight. Her power. Her weakness. Her. Her tears. Her blood. Her fear. Her kindness. Her anger. Her freedom song.

I am every woman and none at all. I am the consciousness dreaming them all. And in this dream I hold the hand of my Mother and the vision is whole and the Goddess I behold. Out of her sacrifice the Daughter is born. The one who after so long remembers the truth.

She is the luminary of the vast seas.

Shaper of worlds.

Caretaker of star seed.

Daughter, the vessel of eternity.

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