The Eve of Resurrection

Sleeping beauty stirs…

It is the Eve of resurrection…

 

We can feel her on the breeze

calling love back into life.

 

She is our devotion.

She is glowing in the darkness

as she echoes through the spaces in our minds.

 

She is our tiny dancer…

We yield to let her dance us…

 As we move and blossom with her sighs.

 

She is swelling, She is pulsing…

igniting dormant wisdom…

Remembering the truth we left behind.

 

Yes, Sleeping beauty stirs…

It is the Eve of resurrection…
On waking we will turn it all around…
No serpent caused our slumber,
No… She just moves in cycles

and, no prince will be the advent of her rise.

 

She is no rib-born maiden.
She’s Wild Lilith in the garden,
Sparking fire in our hearts and in our eyes.

 

 

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