The Paradox of Struggle. A Sonnet Dedication to Frank Atanacio, A Great Writer
I watch in awe, as the woman struggles,
Face contorted; beads of sweat pouring down her fragile frame.
Eyes shut painfully tight from forcing; flushed with pain.
“Push!” The midwife shouts, “Push!” I drift away …
I am reminded of the journey of the Soul.
Not unlike this woman’s.
As It struggles against darkness and ignorance,
Pleasure and pain, as the Inner Midwife calls: “Come! Come! “
Startled, I hear a cry as the new-born babe burst forth;
Its mothers heart, a paragon of Joy unparalleled.
So too my Soul, wrapped in the cocoon of a trillion rhapsodies,
Dances in the radiance of one thousand flares,
Unravelling its isolation, in rays of golden sunbeams,
Crying with the Delight, of a new awakening.
~ Awakening The Inner Light~
What is the end product of Struggle
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