soft upon the senses darkness descends, gently pressing, inviting acceptance, surrender. this is the fruitful darkness of gestation where borders blur & numinous exchange can happen spontaneously. words are too slow for this subtle realm, too angular, sharp & hard. like knives carving water, they give motion mimicking meaning, yet little is clear & nothing enduring remains for long. the gentle fruitful darkness is like a womb, allowing growth of life without disturbance, nurturing & holding it in the divinely provided secure protection. i come from that darkness to You, Shiva, called forth by the sacred mystery of Your summons, alluring as the glow of a night-blooming blossom in the pale new moonlight. soft upon the senses, darkness deepens, gently pressing, hinting of surrender to the fullness of gestation. this is where we touch, far beyond borders or worlds. this is where words are put aside & communion of pure essence reaches forth, heart to heart. this is all i know, Shiva: the slow unveiling of the wordless, the advent of light born of the fruitful darkness, the abundant mother of form.