Numina Is Born

Numina—

I call to her,
she is born—

Numina:
The Formless into Form—
The Eye within the Storm—

The ocean’s deepest longing,
The grit that shapes the pearl
The pearl that makes the oyster
A joy to behold.

As Numina
We stand fierce & loving
One foot in the fire
One foot in cold ashes
Forever ascending,
eternally subsiding.

Yes, even as Existence
births Our body
into Form
again
and again,
Numina resides
in the space between.

Luscious,
labile,
eloquent,
encompassing—
bountiful,
laughing,
yielding fully to life’s own Becoming
bearing no restraint
& leaving only
a trail of painted feathers
in her watercolored wake.

Whatever Soul
occupies this vessel
is simply here to BE:
No impositions
Nothing to be asked
Nothing to be obtained.

This vivid realization
is the joyous birthing
of Numina
and all her kin.

(Mistake me not:
I am no one
I am nothing.

I am a hollow vessel
through which
Existence murmurs
a fleeting melody.)

(c) Summer Blake 2021

Into Autumn

Into Autumn’s well
I dip my chalice
and I drink deep.

Leaves crumble in my mouth.
I taste ancient blood
a cold, wet, bitter tang
& a sense of foreboding.
What did I dare
come here
to do?

Spores pour from my nostrils
Thorns tear my bare skin
as my breathing matches the cadence
of winds whipping the leaves
into frenzy.

And
sonorously,
the forest’s lungs
reverberate the balance
between the dead and dying,
the alive and living.

In the space between
She appears before me
in her blood-red garb
Summoning
the spirits
from the deep hollows
where they keep
their counsel
casting the bones
for signs, signals,
and to summon
that which lies
beyond their realms.

It is time.
She has come for me.
She has come to take me
To show me.

I beg her mercy
but she does not allow.

Yet she lovingly takes me
into Her arms
and together,
we open the door
of the path toward Becoming.

I yield before me:
The stargate to my own
Soul’s
Opening— 

As a fiery sun
relentlessly,
inexorably drawn
into the abyss of the mightiest
black hole.

All that energy vanishing
beyond present perception.

Where does it go?
In the now,
I witness a death.
But beyond
the black hole,
there is another Self,
witnessing
the translation, a newly birthed Form
unseen & inconceivable
to the present Self.

I am that blood-red One
Cloaked in the finery of my Future Self
Reflecting and refracting
the infinite mirrored Selves
which spiral through the abyss
of the unknowable unfolding
the incarnate visage
into which we peer
losing ourselves
in the ecstasy of awareness,
oblivion,
awareness,
oblivion,
endlessly entwined
each yawning open wide
to receive the other.

Naked and unashamed,
in radiant bliss
I cross
the Gate of Souls
forged anew
in the grasp
of surrender
to my own
undoing.

{All
is made whole
in the heart of the Beloved.
Such is its ineffable grace.}

(c) Summer Blake 2021

Rebirth

I steep deep
in subaqueous dreams
wriggling like a bubble
from the bottom of a pot
up, up,
one with the water yet
jostling to break
a stalwart skyward swim,
bouncing to the brim
Until I undertake
to manifest my own wake
Tumbling through the process
of my own self-birth

(c) Summer Blake 2019

Reweaving the Dream

It is time to reweave the dream.
To unweave false ends
and false realities
to welcome new stories.
To let the true light shine
Unceasing in its All-Glory.

Radiant loom
even couched in slumber!
All it needs is hands to bend
in humble hearkening
Reclaim the whirling wheel
and set the mark to wending
While
slender and fat beads,
all strung together,
are perched
As birds on tree-limbs overlooking
a vast unfolding river.

And so
In remaking this cloth
we are given unto the grace of loving;
In seeking to mend
we are born into comprehending.
In breaking ourselves
we are discovering sacred secrets of rebuilding.
In forgetting ourselves
we come closer to discovery.

(c) Summer Blake 2019