WOMB OF ALL BEGINNINGS

WOMB OF ALL BEGINNINGS In the delicious womb of all beginnings we learnt to giggle electrons to bear all things without nusturtiums, pink lilies or doughnuts warm gurglings of God’s dream for us Morning glories were waiting deep below, as were waves trickling tears, camel caravans meditation chambers and prison cells We knew not of Monadic eggs searing pain or Split-souls neither of Solar eclipses or random moon calendars Just twirled tickling HIS desires on how to wear our hair or present ourselves It was our own desires petering back and forth as we curled protons around each other’s potions Fasting, food or fiction politicians or poets such did not exist in the womb of all beginnings No Ts to cross or pottage to prepare only a smooth in and out of HIS breath as spectre spectrums of delicate dedication making toenail patterns in fallopian winds whirling eerily Waiting for a dandelion thread meant learning to listen for stardust before they glimmering shone on the Milky Way as dragon wings wooed webbed witches Linen shirts were far far away in horizons deep down or behind or before Stone tablets on which were written stories we cared to decipher not though figurines enthrallingly called All was nothing in this still beginning of beginnings in the Womb of all beginnings where we felt one another without spaces between wrinkle swam in microcosms of pitch To fathom HIS voidness Touch HIS encircling hum heaves mounds, waiting as breath softly sting sing shadows silent our moistness glistening around bodies vague in distant futures unsolidified after guns were bonfired in bushes or madhouses melted in momentum In HIS stillness we stilled our electrons from leaping toward one another HE assented our Belovedness to weave high-pitch frequencies on a Blue Planet lifting itself foreshadowing IPhone portraits of enticements for us to know that we could, if we wished then dissolve all vedanas into thin air dusted with autumn leaves in Africa South or spring blossoms in America North or sprawling glistening mansions waiting empty on Andromedan gardens In this womb of all beginnings no thing to smell or taste or ponder no restless quantum jumps planes to catch or constellations to explore or what to call ourselves on someone else’s screen was a scream we cared not to hear or discern somewhere in brain neural networks not yet neutered Making of marrow slow or fast it did not merrily matter since open and close was one inexplicable blank blind beginning where I could play hide and seek so safely silent knowingly In the womb of all beginnings as spindly spines tangled then untangled spooky synchronic signs lay beckoning as distant vasting visions on vistas of veritable wisdom our pink palm centres exchanged silver webs weaving crystal curdles Chattering light bubbles curled designing lips for smiling or eating we knew not what dust or juice HE could not decide on fruit or sand or octopus and ivory then said we could have all we wished Care we did not it was just too snug the growing of a beard whisked onto an emerging speck in HIS belly yours or mine female or male or both or none ? Snug or warm to leave we must Obey HIS command to touch the roots of pine, birch, cow dung how to hold a crutch or feed a baby stroke a wrinkle or hasten a New Dawn An injunction to open a pale rose exuding a faint new octave rebirthing Up into His throat we swam Out in a slow steady breath onto two shimmering threads of goodbyes We were gone ! No other womb can contend… ©GhairoDanielsPoetry&Song 2024