I hung my ego out to dry,
forgetting it was there.
Sitting naked in the sun,
wearing nothing but spirit,
I became clothed in truth,
the blissfullness of love.
Then,
the gentlest breeze kissed my face,
whispering, as I inhaled.
It bathed my senses,
soaking the very pores of my soul.
The infinite, undeniable, all Knowing,
memory of home.
The fragrance of heaven,
my mother.

Gloria Martin

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