Blood Mother

Fall out of yourself
This surrender will only bring you closer to your hearts desire
I am the dark mother
The deep ache of your blood finally letting go
Slip into the inbetween and see another angle of reality
This is the time of the moon blood rise
Kissing the tides of your limitation
An open invitation to simmer them in the caldron of the eternal void
Simmer until the water transforms to blood
Simmer until the earth becomes mud
Simmer until the air becomes steam
Simmer until the fire swirls the dream into being
And ride this spiral gate no longer trying to negotiate bypassing doing and diving into ultimate allowing
Swirl the seed into bursts
We can only point to the way
Gnosis is the choking up of all the limitations you have wrapped yourself in to feel safe
You’ve teased yourself back to me on the threads of words throughout eternity
So curl up like a child finally home after wandering in a dark forest lured on by the promise of bread crumbs leading to gold coins
Cast off the chains of survival and enter the chamber of the real
Nothing is as you thought
And all is a seam in your dream
What are you believing?
Come, climb into my lap and let me bathe you in the waters you come from
I’ll drain out your blood and fill you with the sweet nectar of eternal life
You’re the child of my heart
Come home and let me hold you
Let me love you
I love you enough to club your skull into a bloody carcass so your mind can finally let go
I love you enough to tear into your chest with my finger nails, rip out your heart and eat it raw so my love becomes the pulse that beats your body
I love you enough to crunch off your toes with my teeth one by one so you remember how it is you actually move
I love you enough to keep you whole and holy inside your own story
Love is not something that is made, it is what everything is made of


About this poem:
I wish I could clasp your hand and take you to the world this poem was birthed from. But alas, that is the funny thing with worlds, they slip in and out of being, penned into creation on the back of words. And I could never open the door and pull you through. She showed me so clearly how important it is not to deny anyone of their own journey. Judgement becomes obsolete. As fellow travelers through consciousness, the best we can offer is a reflection of our own experiences. Pointing to a path, yet there is no substitute for gnosis. I love what Rumi says about poetry. It can be dangerous because it gives the illusion of having had the experience without going through it.

I don’t think poetry into being. It falls through me in a waterfall transmission from the state of consciousness I’m currently inside of. The depth measured by how completely I can get out of the mind. You see, there are many worlds inside of this one planet. Infinite in fact. How you experience reality is dependent upon the energetic signature you’re playing in, the emotional literacy of varying degrees of coherency. So to slip into the world of poetic mysticism is a subtle energy journey where riding dragons is the new normal.

This morning, in a state of complete and utter surprised surrender, I plunged into a world I’d only peaked into before. The world of the Dark Mother. This poem came from a particularly intense waterfall where my human self dissolved into an ocean of tears over the exquisite beauty and absolute perfection of absolutely everything. I remember feeling that I would die if I stayed there because there was absolutely nothing left to hang onto.

This piece is particularly dear to my heart. I see the world through fresh lenses. My prayer for anything I share is that it inspires you to have your own experiences. May it spark. May it spark. May it spark.


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