All night, be breathed.
Darkness is not the absence of light.
Darkness is the womb of light.
Darkness is not despair,
but peace where joy is born,
the hidden seed of self-blossoming.
A bud is wrapped in darkness
to protect its golden petals
from the frost,
a chrysalis cocooned in darkness
to protect its rainbow wings
from the storm,
your tears rapt in shadows
to ripen before they fall.
Musky, fertile the void.
No lack, no lack is there.
Stars shine because
the blackness between them
gushes what flows through your spine.
It is you who re-conceives
the sun in the abyss,
the new moon an embryo
floating in your holy silence.
Are you not the Motherhood
of the longest evening?
Are you not a radiance
sheathed in the unseen?
Honor the ache of your desolation.
Feel the darkness stir
and kick in your belly, down
where you would not go.
A wordless sigh will lead you there.
Your next inhalation will attune you
to the pulse of Divine Unknowing.
All night, be breathed.
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