The vanishing invisible horizon,

where the ocean meets the night sky.

The undiscernible depths of space,

Of the ocean, of the atom.

The blackness that resides in all things,

the first container, and its vast vacuous content.

Before the big bang ever dreamed

there was the vast abyss,

there is the vast abyss,

the formless, infinite nightfall.


Close your eyes and you are there.


Most see it as fear.

For the roots of social control are deep.

Most see it as nothing.

For these roots make you blind.

Most see her as occult.

For these roots make you doubt.

Most see it as hell.

For these same roots claim control.


The abyss is the abyss for it has made all that it is not.

The abyss is the abyss for it keeps all calm, all serenity.

The abyss does not judge; the abyss does not see.

The abyss only comforts, the abyss only loves.


Love is in deep shadow;

in her motherly cradling obsidian arms.

The same blackness that puts you to sleep

every night. The only blackness who will

follow you from the day you are born

until the day you die. The same blackness

who will follow all living things

through their short journeys.

The very same blackness

who resides in all particles.


The Babylonians sang hymns to her,

the primordial gloomy ocean of creation,

The universe-encompassing cave.

The ultimate womb.


Mother of love.

Mother of light.


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