By Tony DeLorger © 2011
Within the soft moist folds of my soul’s womb,
each step I take a step of discovery,
to realise my beginning.
Not birth, not human folly stricken,
the soul that I am without the pain
of human suffering,
in purity of being,
where beginnings precede life.
In the darkness core,
where wingless angels are but a passing fiction,
I wander, silent, vulnerable,
at the edge of creation.
Who looks upon me in this womb,
this void of potential?
Am I but a fragment,
spewed out in some cosmic ejaculation?
Or perhaps I reside as a whole,
a mirror of my creator.
Within this womb I see only darkness,
a tranquil void filled with possibility,
and I, returning to a mother unknown,
see no light that I may claim,
that I may understand as my own.
My soul lives on,
without the knowledge of itself,
just a sense of belonging,
Forever shall I walk the darkness of my soul’s womb,
seeking my beginning,
my father, my mother,
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