Your belly button is the blossom.
Something buzzes there, making honey
of all this blood, these forests and mountains,
the darkness between stars.
Into the mystery of the Goddess you have entered
more deeply than the Goddess.
She longs to be where you are now,
nursing miracles out of the green earth.
Why else should you taste the butterscotch sun,
the chocolate moon scented with herbs
from an ancient garden?
All that can bow bends toward her
through your breasts.
Come, engender yourself.
Humanity kicks from within,
then pours out of you like wine.
Dear one, your body is proof
that there is no other world.
Photo: 'Embryo' galaxy in Cassiopeia.
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