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Boundless and Inconceivable as the Source is Wisdom
She. the Female Face of God, is Radiant and Beauteous,
Yet She is also the Dark of the Moon on a winter night.
She blazes like the Sun,and gleams, a pale Moon at Night.
She pours forth smiles from ev'ry flower,
And alights with delicate wing of Butterfly
On the shoulder of the mystic.
Ev'ry shaman knows Her Name, but says it only in a whisper
For She is the stream of Consciousness in All.
So sacred is She,
So Royal is She,
Yet so gentle is She,
That only through Poem and Song and Story
Can She truly make herself at home.
Dry and stuffy books she disdains,
Vain Philosophy knows Her not,
Though it claims to love Her.
It loves only its own intellect,
Which Gentlest Wisdom by far transcends.
Shallow men! She cries.
How can you resist diving into the Pools within You where I swim?
How can you remain in the shallows of Intellect
and claim to know?
Shallow fools and blind!
Dance!
 Throw your stuffiness aside!
Dance! Play!
Sing!
Awaken!
And tell my stories...
Amen
© 2007 Brigit Christopher
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