What am I behind this face
From what cup fills my flesh-ed vase
What wills and guides behind my eyes
The voice grows flowers
Some bloom, some die,
Do I decide or is he who listens I?
Invisible in the garden, the gardener resides

I
Never saw you as a ghost,
a wreck cast to the coast.

Like waves to sand
You say, "Swing from the ropes"

I don't know why,
everything exists at all.

But I try,
when I see you walking down the hall

But I try,
not to ask why.

My Feminine divine