Hugging the full moon of your womb
I feel all the miracle of life
concentrated in your perfect roundness,
all the power of spring
contained in perfect curve.
I feel how you cease to be just you
to become the crucible of everything
that was, is and will be.
And I understand in brief circular eternity
that out of all possible truths that were
none was so pure,
nor so mysterious,
nor so detached from time,
as the voluptuous Truth
that sprouts in the core of your being,
fruit of that fleeting moment
in which I was you, and you were I.
As I hug the full moon of your womb
I glimpse the Truth of the sun
rising in the horizon that joins us.