Goddess is the wilderness:
dense forests, her open skies
the dry desert.
Her temple a sanctuary buried deep
within your soul. At the bottom
of the labyrinth lay a seed.
a tiny doorway into a vast open.
Traveling downward, descending
into the gordian knot, unraveling,
becoming undone.
In the hollow. . . maggots,
snakes, . . . putrefaction, a slow
loosening. . . . where the knots
undo and the wind is free. Waves
endlessly
ebb, then flood. The
sounds of nature undulate
in quiet vibrations, the sun’s light
strikes the heart: jewels
of the cosmos revealed. They fall
from the clouds like rain, raining
emeralds,
rubies, amber stars.
And her hands are cupped and waiting.
Her breasts filled to the brim with milk
her hair is thick and silky, her mouth
like the round of the moon. When
she sings, I
can hear her. It
is my nature calling, she speaks
through the winds. For
the Angel is my name and nature,
the Goddess of soundless, sound
that echoes, is your name and nature.