Our bodies are woven from the light of heaven
The ancient mother of the cosmos breathes stardust into form: our midnight universe is strung with crystal stars. Snow White mountains gleam on Pluto, ice and rocks make moons for Jupiter. In far off galaxies she breathers disintegration, branding nebulas fling ruby torches arching over black, iron falls to forest as meteors race across the sky. She breaths the sparks that make new spheres, new stones and bones, new stories. She breathes the mountain and the veiling cloud. She breaths the dancing crane and the tiger. She breathes the woman's song of birth, both harsh and joyous; she breathes the death of old worlds worn to whispers rattling in the throat. She breathes the winds of change that lift our soul to wings, our minds alight. She has breathed us to this moment, to this purpose; we are here to call our goddess to this now, this world, this heart. Her breath is mine - her breath is yours. With her celestial power within us we can turn the world around.