We’re Always in Her Great Womb

Having spent nine months or so

In our biological mother’s womb,

And then pushed out into this world,

But even after that we’ve still remained

Deeply embedded in a womb—

Of the Almighty Mother of the Universe.

It’s there that we've been all along

Ever since She conceived us.

The womb of the Divine Mother,

This universe (or multiverse perhaps),

Has always been our home,

And in it we’ll stay as long

As she continues to carry us

As fetuses eons old, still developing,

And as yet not mature sufficiently

For Her to finally let us out.

In Her womb we have lived

So far, and so very long,

From birth to birth, uncountable,

Since far distant eternity past.

And even now, you see, we’re still there,

Long after our arrival on this earthly plane,

Following a nine month-long gestation

In our biological mother’s womb.

This great universe (or multiverse) of Hers,

Already infinite, and yet ever-expanding,

Is our Divine Mother’s womb, you know,

In which She incubates Her many offspring.

Humans, animals and birds,

Trees, bushes and plants,

Insects, reptiles and fish,

Mud, rocks and mountains,

And whatever else that may exist:

All these our Almighty Mother’s children,

Being thus all siblings to one another,

Fruits of the same womb,

She Herself in varied garb.

We're always in this Mother’s womb,

No matter where we go or may be

On earth, in the sea, or outer space.

In whatever shape or form we take,

We can't ever go outside of Her,

For all the space that does exist

Is but part of Her womb's immensity.

Yes, there’s heat and fire in this womb,

It is rarely, if ever, still and calm.

The many fetuses She carries within Her

May sometimes kick, beat and shout.

At times fed up of it, some long to flee,

But little do they know

There’s no place as ‘outside’ Her womb

In all the vast space there might be.

And so, wherever they are or go,

They’re always firmly and fixedly within

The vast, all-encompassing womb of

Our Almighty Mother of the Universe.

These recalcitrant children

Need to be firmly told,

In terms most clear and certain:

“You’ve always been deep inside

Our Great Mother’s womb,

Lifetime after lifetime, uncountable,

Ever since She fashioned you.

You’ve never been any place else,

For, whatever you may see or touch,

And wherever it may be you go,

It is all part of Her great body,

Her unlimited, still-growing womb.

And, in this womb you must remain,

Till a day might finally arrive

When, in Her wisdom, she decrees,

It's now time to let you go out

From her womb, but to where?

To fuse into Her Being Itself,

Liberated now from the illusion

Of existing as a separate being,

Distinct and clearly different

From Her and Her other children.”

And these little children of Hers

Must also be gently explained:

“It’s a thought greatly comforting,

That no matter what in life

Situations we might face,

We’re always in this Mother’s womb,

And so, even if trials are severe or taxing,

Simply just to know

That they happen deep inside Her,

And that thus, She knows it all,

Is really a big relief.”

If this were not the case, I think,

This life would be sheer Hell,

That would indeed be the case

If our Mother wasn’t always there,

And if She didn’t know it all,

And bother about us and care.

Oh, how assuring it truly is,

To know that no matter what

Might happen in our life,

We're always comfortably seated

In our Almighty Mother’s womb,

From where no being or force,

No matter how powerful it be,

Can ever dare dislodge us.