For the Women

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There is not one of us

Who does not need the rest,

Who can stand apart

And carry the world

In this way, on her own.

She knows this.

It is the divine feminine

In her speaking,

Knowing she is not

Ever speaking alone.

She has worked hard,

She has made it

To the mountaintop,

She sits, not weary, but ignited,

Each strand of hair

Spilling down to the oceans

Ready to fly where

She is needed,

So that she can wrap

All the suffering beings

Into her embrace,

And soothe, and protect,

And nurture, and love.

And love them.

As she herself, loves,

Is loved in return.

The time has come;

This is the age of Woman,

Which is the age

Of us all, finally,

The age of stopping

To see out of our lonely

Pockets of isolation,

To come together,

Sisters and brothers,

To see the world softly,

To breathe the world deeply,

To love, to love, to love.

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