​She’s made sacred by desire

Her great yawning passion

Whose throes 

are the forge

of creation

The multiversity rests

perched,

ready,

unknown

even to her

until the brilliant light enters

whose warmth stirs

and awakens

a celestial womb

draped in night

and buried deep

but moved by by his presence

so that

blooming

she opens deeper still

as everything in the illumine

is undone

revealed

taken and given

all at once.

These are ours

moments snatched 

from the infinite

a Sunday morning late in Spring

with tea and rain

drawing us into this warmth 

of presence

where divine

laden

springs.

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