Eggs of emptiness...

Many kilometers from the mountains,

I imagine eggs of emptiness,

surrounded by golden light,

rest.

As I keep reaching for the sunlight.

I am underground,

yet unborn pressing to rise,

pressing to burgeon forth.

I cannot slide back,

or I will die.

Yet I long for rest,

my cells long for rest.

Can I reconcile myself to the promise of the oval emptiness?

I keep breathing in as though there were no end.

Fully expanded. Stop.

I have long sought living in expansion,

but it is not the same as to enter the earth,

to trust gravity,

the hills too.

I release my full weight into the land

that presages the fullness of the Sierra Gorda's gravity.

I allow my exhale to caress me from within.

From underground and above ground

I touch  the sky

pressing upward into the sky

from the deep below.

As I rest deeper 

my earth 

my mineral self

flows into the veins of the earth.

My feet made of elemental earth

are roots filled with ground.

I am filled with emptiness,

deep rest.

—Lorena