Poem 4 - Dark is her Gold

Saint T - 11.10.2023

She hums, she hums, the deep voice inside;

She knows, she knows, all that you hide.

From yourself first, of course. It always starts there;

The unspoken pain, the truth, no one wants to bear.

She waits, she waits, until her time comes,

To collect the fruits that have now ripened.

You have but no choice,

She knows you too well,

The black one within,

That holds all secrets.

A constant vigil

In case you forget,

Who you were before,

You even got here.

She keeps track,

Not of successes,

Yet of what you become

As you progress.

She watches and smiles, 

Lets you play the game,

Until it is time,

To come home again.

She then calls your name,

The one you forgot.

She whispers and she creams,

Until she goes heard.

She stares up and down,

Says:

"What have you learned ?"

She hears all your words

From out on the land

The joys, the laughters,

The remaining pain.

As the trust starts to return,

You take off your shoes, your hair’s hanging loose

You untie your scarf, unbutton your clothes,

Until you stand naked

At the entrance door.

She weights your heart then:

“Has all truth been shared?”

And should the feather drop,

The door comes open

To your greatest joy.

Your dark is her gold

She won't let you hide

Behind Father no more

She cannot stand a lie,

She knows you too long...

Ultimate mother,

The one you never had,

Yes, she is patient,

For she knows no time.

She has till the end

For you to surrender

There’s no fooling to please

To bear her emblem.

Naked she wants you,

Just as you were made,

Bare feet on the earth,

humble and open,

Whole and pretence-less,

Stripped of holy names.

And when She witnesses who

Emerged from her insides

Unstained yet by blood, the juices of life,

She will gather all pains in an infinite sight

And blow them on the embers of the perennial Fire

Where they will be consumed, transformed and melted,

And in the heat that restores,

Her Gold will be formed.

Until you stand naked

At your own heart's doors

It is Death you defy

And remember,

She has already won.

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Poem 5 - Convergence