The Sacred Void

There is movement in the fertile ground, beneath the barren landscape.

Though hopeless in it’s visage; lifeless, stark, and separate.

Old from harshness. The pull of the earth which leaves none untouched.

Cold, from too many storms. Long held by the icy grip of frost.

Solitary, abandoned by all once thought known.

But then a Spark calls.

Come.

Awaken.

It is time.

In all thought lost, be found.

In all thought dead, reborn.

In hope long gone, renewed.

The inhale held too long, now breathe.

In the Shadow so certain of it’s darkness, the Spark now shows the Truth.

That it never was without the light. For they cannot be separate.

There was nothing taken that Love cannot restore.

And Love was always there.

So now be warmed.

Be held.

Be seen.

The warmth calls all forth.

The bud, the blade, the blossom.

Awake.

Alive.

And Home.