Center Heart
A Spiritual Journey from Divine Light to Physical Existence Through the Miracle of Birth
Center Heart Long Poem
At peace with God, I am light-ray frequencies without a bod.
There is life down below, my pearl physical rod.
Men and women making love move me to travel about in heaven, to grow, move, and prod.
I think my soul wants something mod.
I want in a bod.
He let out a big, juicy wad.
I traveled through the Sun Star rays, a ray of light into the cells of the wad, sperm flagellating with a supersonic tail spin to burst into an egg in a bod.
The explosion is magical.
My soul will flag and go.
Mod?
She is a runway model, a sales representative.
My first love.
My womb.
My momma.
My first home, my soul left heaven to bod the womb tomb.
I died from heaven today, now physical.
I want to grow, to read books, and be quizzical.
She is reading the Bible, starting with the truth.
My mum, my virgin light in a physical tomb, from the intelligence of heaven, so physically dumb.
To heaven, to be physical is, yes, to sacrifice, to be dumb.
Yet naïve, yet not knowing, yet with a soul to know.
There is a central intelligence, light entering forth.
They take me as this growing egg to see if I am forming a leg.
Her belly growing.
Me under a slide, growing.
They took me out.
I grow so stout.
What was that left in her belly, growing so big—a healthy baby?
Yet me at the same time, a microscope and slide under the light of a scientist, and yet in the womb.
They taught me parallel reality, already marking a divine tomb.
Learning so early.
The tune of the harpsichord of woven light rays, from the Sun Star rays to womb, to a parallel cell growing under the light of a microscope on a slide.
When they grope and force-fed dope, I remembered this in Reiki past-life regression, distant healing therapy.
What do I grow to date to be?
A mission.
