Meditation

"Sit still and disengage normal activities.
Draw energy from the earth,
Admit power from the heavens.
Fertilize the seed within;
Let it sprout into a flower of pure light.
And let brightness open the top of your head:
Divine light will come pouring in:
Your mind is empty,
Light seeps into your whole body.
Sitting cross-legged, with hands clasped,
As if trying to embrace the brilliant flood,
Your skin turns transparent.
How can a bag of skin hold divine magnitude?
Your last vestiges burn away in a torrent of infinity.

Only after indeterminate time do you return.
Flesh, blood, bone.
Were you gone? Or were you never here in the first place?
Where is the torrent?
It is not gone;
You've only closed to it once more."

"Were you never here in the first place?" That's the question I want to ask my baby. I hate that I am not a mother, not so anyone can see. So I have to live my life, and live the death of my child, closed. No amount of praying or mediation can ever bring it--whoever he or she would have been--back to me. I always ask myself, what else can I do? There is nothing that will ever be enough. At least I can still pour out my heart, and be grateful that He will listen even if I don't hear an answer.