made of mother light


the little morning waited for me to appear. the sun doesn’t rise without me. the little world slept while i boiled water. there was no song, there was me in the deep. black moment of under, where i lift my head knowing. she’s afraid to be seen isn’t she, this light. this clear morning she brings. like a fresh corpse still warm, we all look away. those lips were so perfect and now, i’m afraid. of who i’ve kissed, why i’ve done what i’ve done. all alone in the beginning, all alone. they wait for me. and the little sounds appear as life but i know it’s all just thoughts, thinking themselves back in line. in a sequence i can build from. a new morning, an understanding of this morbid frightful moment. the door will open and he will walk through it. my name will be called and i will go. the light will sneak through the window i’ve covered, the indestructible will rise in me like a weapon. i sit in the dark waiting, hours and hours. waiting for light. the parasites crawl up the walls and float in the air. i can barely breath without coughing. the message is clear but nobody hears, “get out of my body, get out of this house!” little words, fall from the ceiling. land in my mind and start moving. devouring any stillness that might have seemed real. i haven’t slept but have been sleeping for years. why do you want me. why are you here. i am just the inhabitant of this shell, i have no light to give you. food. dark and cold, i sit inside. holding what i have. not knowing what i have, but what i do seems to make sense to the plan. how i seem to have planned to control my own inevitable destruction down to the last ignored detail. how i seem to have entered a game i’ve created again that begins and ends with me always on top. how i have mirrors without faces looking back. voices without bodies that match. how i move in circles surrounding myself, from every point. i pull from the center. striving to lose this. lose this desire to be free. lose this loss. forget the rest of me. but nothing happens unless i’m there. and so like i said, the new morning waits for me whether i like it or feel ready or not. i live under a lot of pressure, carrying this body of mine. forward into the light, without fear of falling. down even further before night strikes again and i lose even the memory of your face. i once saw you. i live for your return facing until then, god in this little hole. pushing and gnawing at my soul to go back. “back where” i ask and nobody knows. “out of here,” is all that we can muster to imagine. and yet i know god isn’t real, not like this. disguised in my pretense and lust for more pictures. of myself being fearless on camera. and when i’m not looking back is when god as the burn marks appears and starts boiling. “you did this all for a name and a cover.” and what about the story of footprints in the sand and god’s invisible hand and the holy unseen body that carries me down the shore against all odds…shell, dead. bury me in your water. there is no alone without me. and so i’ve been waiting and taking my responsibilities very seriously. how to remedy disease, maintain perfect blood pressure, never grow old like the masses. not be a hypocrite sitting in church watching women’s legs move like spiders within me. tickles of hell, not here. not in front of god. confess, it’s very important to be pure in his eyes, eyes we haven’t seen and yet judge ourselves by. you know him right, the one blessing cursing and taking. only giving to the deserving who bleed extra because they can. who carry their own stakes and never hit back. who don’t feel hate or kiss dirty lips. everything he touches becomes pure that’s why he is who he is. always a man, in a woman’s sacred sad body. you don’t understand that everything is a woman. a woman suffering. she is me. god gives wounds and wombs and nothing else really. you are then allowed to do what you want with the rest. such as forlorn penises and knives with fingers that count. originally this was about being a shell, just a hollow hole filled with probability. like probably you don’t see me or know me. like probably you will fill me with you and i’ll look back and do it my way all over your face. can’t you see, the sun is watching us from afar as we approach the east with anxiety that we might miss another opportunity to be cured. like clouds disappearing from the sky, the water pulls the shell back into it’s vast unimportance. there is no surrender only retrieval. so i wait because that’s all i know. is that this time, i am really returning to you. not someone else who fits the description just to pass the interview. but the real one covered in the shells of the lost. the shore is a woman covered in that inescapable pain and the waves are her only answer- that we must give everything again and again without solace or solution- because that’s how god feeds an empty world made of light.

made of mother light. sharada devi


12 thoughts on “made of mother light”

  1. She is so beautiful, I can feel it, like an opening. The fear of loss is so yesterday, by nature. God, help me, now. Help me. Help me by helping her. Thank God.

    So beautiful, I can’t help it. Can’t wait. I have chores to do, like take out the trash, get some wood, and circle back. With you as my witness. What I mean is, I often said “this isnt about me”, which is a problem when I take up space. I need to be taken out. I need to circle back, give myself to the fire, so that motherlight can, take me back. So that when I sing it is out, from in the hole, where I need to go like fire breathing. Taking. Waiting for me.

    1. I am at a loss for words. That’s all, the trying…
      words lose. And I could have said nothing,
      I know. So that’s the edge. Consequences.
      No escape.

  2. I wrote a song yesterday inspired by this

    The sun doesn’t shine without you
    The moon doesn’t show until you’re tired
    I can’t forget what you said at the mountain
    I think Garuda’s on fire

    I can’t even go on without you
    Apparently neither can they
    I think I messed up
    I think I got lost
    And now it’s time I pay

    You’re my heart, you’re my soul
    You’re The One who makes me lose control
    And leaves me screaming all night
    You’re my past, you’re my fate
    You’re be one that always makes me late
    When you’re around I get nothing done, you’re the one

    I thank god that I found you
    I thank Satan for your smile
    I can’t believe we made it together
    I hope it lasts a while

    You’re my heart, you’re my soul
    You’re The One who makes me lose control
    And leaves me screaming all night
    You’re my past, you’re my fate
    You’re be one that always makes me late
    When you’re around I get nothing done, you’re the one

    1. I really think you’re the One☀️
      I love this, it’s divine.
      Why don’t you send a link
      to you singing this song?
      So intensely true. My you.

  3. No cure for what’s coming. No clue about what lies ahead. Fishing deep, sun opens in my belly hole…fast letting go…bubbles rise popping up to the surface of the next layer. Waking early, I now rise and plan each day, plant seeds of mantra and prayer upon the break of dawn. Pulsations of Mother Earth remind me I will not be with Her on Her plane forever. When I was young I was taught to plan my future. A future that consisted of a pleasant roof over my head, warm food for my belly, good friends, satisfying career that would build security and comfort in my elder years. So here, now, at the humble age of 58, I build my spiritual future, connecting with the Divine Mother Light. Practicing daily, with a loving heart. Darkness has greeted enough to where I have made great friends with the worst of ME. I make no apologies and have no excuses. I am here, centered, back in my OM womb, planted on Mama Earth waiting for the pluck and release to Mother Light when She calls me to the next layer. Bubbles rising……Humbly praying…..Lord prepare me to be a sanctuary, PURE and (W )Holy, tried and true, and with thanksgiving I will be a LIVING SANCTUARY for You. Om Mani Padme Hum.

    1. The end is my friend. How else can I say,
      there is no other way but love the one that loves you forever…never forgets you. Ever.
      The end, deep dark friend, could it be true
      that I shine just for you? OM dark body, bright nobody. A Love like this lasts forever.

  4. Yes we are made of light beams, billions of kalapas ( tiny energy balls ) in the wink of an eye gone gone beyond the mind. You are the dakini. The space of sky up above the wolf star singing a world of Ah ahh ha sa sha ma and going out of body bliss. One more out of time moment when before you know we know but want to keep in the dream. The bodhi love dog sings the moon into the sun and when the drops move we leave this crystal bone temple of sound. Where do we go? Nowhere but here. Just give it all up, the weight of the world is love. She feeds on us, like a vulture cleaning up the mess of flesh and blood. 72 Sharada moons have past, how many more will these old eyes see? At dawn with the ants, the scorpions walk to the water’s edge to drink. One blink and we are gone. Out, like the flames of the fire of desire.
    The original Bhagavan Das

  5. Like panes of glass cracked
    Fluid lines running from
    A starburst target, I
    Can’t help but look
    Closely, deeper.
    Disjointed and sparkling, like
    A spider’s web, holding prey
    Chaos in silvery prisms
    Wrapped up and can’t
    Look away.
    Touching the center hole
    Filled with nothing
    But air.
    Can’t feel the razor cut
    It doesn’t burn
    till I see blood,
    Returning, from being lost
    In the pretty reflection of
    Sunlight, playing in valleys.
    Reality finds me
    Splintered , but
    Able to see
    Her light,
    Entering me, in this
    Life giving

    1. The life giving cut of the blade.I’ve been there, holding still then filled with a new stranger’s blood. Apparently sometimes we match other people but when we don’t their blood enters ours and it kills us. Life giving blood, we get taken back where the point of the blade began. Tracing the imposter, feeding the heart. Pumping deeply without even knowing who the lover of you is.

      Somebody gave me my life with a knife and a bag filled with red. Somebody cuts. Somebody is drained. Somebody is filled. Somebody lives and somebody dies. But nobody knows how she does it every time so perfectly. Heals the sick and cures the dead back to life. It’s your life dear Devi, your unspoken fear. It’s your knife and we do it all to ourselves.

      Cut deeply for the love that you are.♥️

  6. Dear Sharada Devi,
    i have been sitting with the words of todays post – ( from – India, ash, flame and flower. Be with me. )
    assimilating the change.
    feeling the motion of revision… ( right word ? – first though best – right ? )
    not surprised
    but still struck
    i began counting backwards…
    to this post point.
    and understanding more fully what might have been said ( or not )

    noticing your subtle ease from i
    into I
    from lower case sentence start
    turning into capital.
    a discreet declaration
    began subtly
    you are are always on my mind
    inescapably .
    like the sun rising

    ( this does not need to be posted )

    more a gesture of solidarity
    – with sincere love,
    Sri Radhe

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