Should one’s delineation

of the Mothers voice,

be presumed sound

in virtue and understanding?

 

The complexity of Her creation’s 

forget the limitations of their speech, 

amidst the abundance of sensory experience.

 

To feel, to listen, to understand.

 

Her children scour 

for their frequency.

Having not realized,

they seek only in the light.

 

Yet,

She exists in shadow.

 

When the deity approaches

it may move through you,

to mend and to build.

 

In return,

taking what is owed

in preparation for a second;

a day not given.

 

The fallacies of our creation

suspend us in abandoned wonderment.

 

A selfishness to approbate

continual satisfaction,

with mere and bleak 

understanding of what’s secular.

 

Thus,

there exists solace in 

Her storms; power and rage.

 

Existence remains presented

in fragments of illusion,

cut with callus intent

to avert our gaze.

 

The journey appears as a window.

As She declares the way open,

take no more than a seconds pause.

The ledge becomes you;

 

Jump.