She is immaculate silence,
the fecundity of night.
She gives birth to fire
before its conception.
Her void is moist with stars
yet She who cradles them all
has become your breath.
Don't strive for the light.
Just let your darkness
be a manger.
Is She not the wine
between your thoughts?
Now drink
and be the mother
of your own heart.
Painting: 'Adoration' by Gerrit Van Honthorst, b. 1592
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