Gaia

 


Our Mother Earth


The whispers suggest

Her center is a smoldering molten core

All consuming melt of fire

I am skeptic of this witchery called science

Imagining the center to have a heart much like mine



Vulnerable and sore

Vibrant muscle drumming in gratitude

Capillary tunnels flowing out spreading life

Her blood runs blue

Into cavernous basins

Crystalline grotto of incandescent hue




Beating so profoundly

Resonating to the whole, in a world that thrives on music

In purity of tribal ritual to intricate unfurling of orchestral fantasia

Echoes of hollow sharp brass cutting the steady pound to the march of war

To serene fluid lickings of virgin fingertips caressing the strings of the harp

Into the steamy moaning, dripping sex of onyx lips singing Mississippi blues



Surging vibrations in vast myriad of artery carnations

Fed by blood pumping of the same hallowed maternal heart