Compliantly, urgently listening
with blind hope, ears wide open
as the sheep for the shepherd.
Waiting, searching, seaking
without forethought or line
as a prophet for the Spirit.
Wandering, thirsting, hungering
finding dry bones and spoilt manna
such the Gomorrhan I must be.
Gazing, seeing, hearing
enlightenment explodes into being
drools from darkness and shadow.
Hark the composition of my Muse!
No shepherd but serpent.
If spirit, evil.
Carefully tendering my terrible pen.
Heaven has broken into my heart again. Just when I thought this soul of mine was filled to the brim with all the love it was possible to hold, expend, give, encompass or expect-still more is coming!
A mother’s heart is a wondrous, bottomless well. I ponder the infinite expandableness of it. It’s ability to love is like the womb, growing to hold all it is given in blessing.
Come, new One. I am waiting. We are expecting-our arms, hearts, homes, hands, eyes, all-to welcome, see, hold, know and joyfully greet you. You are now and always,