The Red Pool of Vacant Truths.

Thinking of the holiest sin;
where do I start?, where do I begin?

Come on then bitch..
let it begin...

*

Of the nights so cold, so cruel,
so torn,
in our youth.

Memories of comfort, seed
and rain.

I am as afraid of you
as you are of me,
dear women.

Friends or enemies - 
we are still the same; in search
of, and reliant on hope and
truth. 

''...but the stories of my life were
forbidden to me, and that silence
nearly killed the heart in me.''

*

To bind,
body, breath and 
mind.

*

Sometimes, meditating on something
isn't the answer, 
and it doesn't always help.

Sometimes, it is the stories
that need be told.

To be poured over 
and shared with those dear 
enough, and noble enough,
and brave enough,
to listen.

Stories of truth,
stories of thunder,
stories of toil and trouble and all
that lives under - neath.

(The Red Pool of Vacant Truths.)

*

Listen, and
be nourished.
Speak (from the heart) and
be cleansed; renewed; 
purified.

Cherish your Gold.

Not all of where we come from is 
a place of dust;
of ashes.
                 or so my Mother once told me...
                               (my many Mothers and those
                                                before me...).

Electrify pain and
reclaim 
your truth.

*

Angels forbare,
in the shadows of night time;
their past time -
their wings of undying flight,
and unrested suffering.

Ride it out - don't fight it.


''Don't fight it. Feel it.''


And then, I became
lost...

Too afraid;
blind, to all that
I was bound to become.

(Know your way, and do not run
away.)

*

A shield of light then unearthed me, -
removed me from the pain.

The pain of delusionised
lies.

She is far away now,
but always with me.

My Mother, 
my sun;

(The one who Knows.)

Just making my way back home,
far, far away from
all, that I have known.