Some things be a whole experience.

Some beings flutter into our sphere

Simply…

For the experience.

Not to be analyzed, not to be assessed, not to be evaluated, not to be judged or sized up…

But experienced. 

Not to be categorized or compartmentalized.

Experienced.

Wholly. Profoundly.

In the crevices. Throughout the cells. All over.

The full-blown experience.

Experience clears space for feminine grace.

She isn’t to be controlled or contorted into who or what we want her to be. Her movements don’t align with our schedules, yet she remains in rhythm, on time. The adornment of her truth may or may not complement the color of logic. 

She may mother.

She might other. 

She be friend, she be lover.

She may shift shapes, flip capes, hang drapes, mix tapes. 

She might present meek, clap cheeks, dress chic, loud speak.

Hell, she could vanish for weeks and we’d still seek.

Her why is hers and hers alone. 

Her faith informs her liberation; she has no use for the constraints of fragility.

Though we opine, we can’t define or confine the Feminine Divine. 

She is to breathe. 

To see. To feel.

To cry. To fly.

To bask. 

Not to task.

To glow. To know. 

To love. To be Love. To be loved.

She be a whole experience.