The womb of God.

The earth carries us like fetuses in the womb.
But outside it is cold and dark.
Until lightening strikes us.
A spark of energy grows us into life.
But there are limits to life.
Gravity pulls us towards death and with no regret.
Resolutions rest but peace is not constant.
Thoughts remain consistencies of sauces.
Torturing voices calmed by angels and God and Spirit Guides words.
Only to return their wisened sadnesses to challenge our hearts into vapour.
Answers so quickly received to stem the desperate need for separation with legion upon legion.
Never at one completely with the body, never completely at one with love.
But swearing, calling for help in its rawest forms.
Light finds its home and grows apart once more birthing a new star for a ready made artform to evolve our life.