My intuition tells me she is all around me

in me

while the world would have me believe she’s

only in my mind

whispers from the soil are carried on her breath

the wind

and our hearts can translate her story

if we listen close enough

she speaks in loving riddles

of the stuff from which we’re made

the same stuff as all the earth

her stuff

like mycelium in an old growth forest

her network of unwavering support stretches

underground unseen and silent

yet the medium

the womb of all creation

we are hers

she is us

she asks nothing in return and

beyond the scope of our tiny lives she

will keep turning the gears of renewal

the cycles of the earth

she will collect our bodies and

feed the flora and the fauna

dig your hands into a garden and feel her warmth

walk on a frozen lake and hear her heartbeat

a quiet prolific powerhouse, she

deposits the divine in every

particle, atom, wave, ray, all matter and non-matter

runs with feminine life force in its being

returning to her one day, we will realize we never left

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