My spirit soars free like the winds traveling North, South, East and West...I draw energy from the sun while son rays radiates thru me...I am Earth..love richly fertilizes my soil...I am a life source...I am WOMAN
The moon fuels my empty ass darkness seems to clutter this space...my womb..screams for freedom..she shudders at the thought of you entering me...No longer can I fight this feeling it just consumes my being...yelpin in agony I cry out for you.. love..why won't you come shine your rays upon me...I am the goddess of fertilty yet my womb stays barren...memories of delusional models of our essence mock me..I stand as the world moves slowly around me with various hints of life and warmth...while I stay cold..tell me how and the hell can light and darkness dwell...heat and warmth...love and hate..in me.. a mosaic... awaiting to be completed
A complex mosaic piece..intritricately woven with purpose..I gaze at the fine detail of the scattered lines, diverse shapes and blended colors.. loss of time I hadn't noticed how the canvas of me has evolved... In admiration, I sigh...I inhale the sweet aroma of change.. promise..hope and expectation; while I exhaled..I purged toxic fumes of lack..fear.. bareness.. doubt and aniexty... for all of these experiences have cultivated this unique art form.. For I keep my womb free of impure radicals.. inorder to maintain a ph balanced fertile space..the paint brush of words splash vibrant colors of life..So Deme whenever blood is flowing through ya womb.. there will be life..love..even growing pains.. thus, your words..your paintbrush holds the strokes of your womb story..paint on my sistah..for our "canvas tales"..our collaborated art form has only just begun...