Warmth of Mother's Womb
Wrapped within the morning
I lie alone
Far away
As most days I often do
All but the minds eye
Is undercover closed
Clinging to empty linen
And then, unconscious folds
Form to dreams of meditation
And then I feel you
Lying so very close
The day continues collapsing in
As every second to minute goes
And so I bury myself further, deeper
Thinking less and less, just being, sensing
Into deja vu
Struck by an unawareness
Of the naissances soon
Or what conscience shall remember
Beneath old famaliar comforter
Can it be, the warmth of mother's womb
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