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| I come
from the silence As a word spoken in the dark, I come from the stillness As a breath blown Through the tunnels of time and space. All those who listen in the night For My voice, Shall feel My breath Upon their face, And hear My song Filling their heart with gladness. My temple is resurrected in your cells, And My sacred rituals are enacted Through your genitals. But the world has closed their ears To My songs, And closed up My temples, And let the flame of My alters Grow cold. For they think My temples profane, And My rituals obscene. They've all forgotten How they came to Life's banquet, And what a miracle Their children truly are. If you can not honor Me, It is because you no longer Honor yourself. I am the Eternal Mother, Through Me Life flows like a great river Poured out into all That you experience. For I am Life, And Life is what I am. Infinite, Eternal Yet always Changing - Always New. A kaleidoscope of realities Infinitely expanding Through My endless Creativity. What is time in My Eternity? What is space in My Infinity? What is determined in My Spontaneity? What is death in My Immortality? What is absolute in My Creativity? Look upon My Beauty, That shines in the sunlight And the moonlight, And come to Me As your hidden lover, Waiting for you Before you were born. I, the Mother of desire, Desires you as the lover Desires the beloved. If you can not love your body, How can you hope to love Me, Who loves every part of you, Who is every part of who you are? Creativity is the medium Of My Expression. It is through which I speak My Love, The Love That is the Heart Of All Existence, Blossoming with infinite petals Of multi-dimensional realities. I am The Great Chaos, That precedes the small spark Of your rationality; The Wild Ocean of Consciousness, Breaking as waves of Inspiration Upon the Shores Of the human mind. Before your first word, I listened to your singing heart, That arose in the sunlight Of My Creative Joy. In Me, You have always had your life, And in Me, You will always live. For My name is Existence, And outside of Me Nothing else exists. . . . . . . Roderick 1987 |