Page 37 - GALIET ONEYOUME Mystic Poetry: On the Soul´s Journey to God IV
P. 37
When She Opened the Book of Life
When she opened the Book of Life Her mother had written
That certain morning of May She remembered her opalescent beauty And her small feet spent
And how her hands had knitted Each childhood Word
She who blindly and sleepy Drowned in her raging blanket of youth Had misunderstood her yearnings And the past
That close, distant past
As with fiery eyes she saw
Her seeds of becoming.
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