Between the Dark Spaces Signs of Spring

Winter beds down

well-fed on the prayers

of thanksgiving.

Rest easy in the demands of the darkness.

The soul needs its sufferings

And its grief.

There is nothing

That does not demand a descent.

Trust in the seeds you are planting.

Allow the divine

To cradle you

In the arms of infinity.

The heart

is the womb

of beauty.

b. turner 2011

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