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