I stand in the hush of a golden hush,
bathed in the sermon of morning flame,
where silence ripples in radiant tongues,
and every ray speaks my secret name.
The sun, O sovereign womb of fire,
draws me close to her infinite breast—
there, in her sacred, burning choir,
my sorrows soften, my soul finds rest.
She does not ask who I have been,
only shines with knowing grace.
In her gaze, all shames are thinned,
and time forgets its reckless pace.
O holy blaze, O light enthroned,
I kiss the warmth of your becoming,
each cell in my skin a hymn reborn,
each breath a star’s soft drumming.
I am not merely flesh or tale—
I am flame made flesh, and free.
The sun writes verses on my veil
in ink of fire and legacy.
My scars dissolve into golden mist,
anointed by the dawn’s deep hue;
the cosmos leans to feel me exist—
and I, in turn, reflect Her too.
Let me shine where shadows weep,
let me blaze where doubt would dwell.
I rise in the sun’s eternal keep,
and my spirit rings like a golden bell.
For I have walked through ash and night,
and now, in brilliance, I have begun—
my soul unveiled in sacred light,
forever held in the bosom of the sun–
Copyright © 2025 Sherley Delia | All rights reserved.
Healing Majestically 