...And Drink the Liquid
Sound of Wisdom...
Resting in the Womb of God
This writing does not speak of desire as the world understands it. What is being named here is something far more primordial—something that lives **beneath personality, beneath longing for fulfillment, beneath even spiritual aspiration**.
The first line immediately places this desire beyond articulation. To say it is *indescribable* is not simply poetic restraint; it reveals that language itself cannot approach the place where this desire lives. Words belong to the surface of consciousness where things are distinguished, defined, and held. But this desire arises from somewhere deeper than the structures of mind.
The phrase **“dark-hole-pigeoned, bruised wings under skin”** evokes a mysterious compression of something living. Wings suggest movement toward the open sky, yet here they are folded inward, carried beneath the skin of being itself. They are not flying outward. They are hidden.
This suggests a desire that has turned **entirely inward**, not because it is wounded in the ordinary sense, but because it belongs to a dimension where outward movement is no longer necessary. The wings remain, but their flight is interior.
Then the writing removes even the subtle movements of perception.
“My deepest desire sees no color,
smokes no fire.”
Color and fire often symbolize vitality, passion, revelation, illumination. Yet this deepest desire is untouched by such phenomena. It does not seek spiritual brightness, visions, or emotional fervor. Even the fires of mystical experience are absent here.
It has **“no view for perception.”**
This is a profound line. Perception implies a perceiver standing apart from what is perceived. But the depth being described here is prior to that separation. There is no vantage point, no observer, no object to behold.
Even the phrase **“no lungs to taste resin”** suggests that the desire does not breathe the fragrances of the world. Resin carries the scent of forests, of life, of the earth’s vitality. Yet this desire does not even partake in that sensory communion.
All faculties that could create relationship between self and world have quietly dissolved.
And then the final line opens the center of the mystery:
“My deepest desire rests in the womb
and drinks the Liquid sound of wisdom.”
Here the imagery shifts from absence to origin.
The **womb** is the place before separation, before identity, before form takes shape. It is the generative interior where life is not yet divided into subject and object, self and other, seeker and sought.
To rest in the womb of God is not merely to abide peacefully in divine presence. It is to return to the **primordial ground where being itself is gestated**.
In this place there is no striving for union, because union is already the condition of existence.
The soul does not seek God.
The soul rests where it has always been born from.
And there, something remarkable occurs: the desire drinks the **Liquid sound of wisdom**.
Liquid suggests nourishment, something imbibed directly into being. Sound suggests a vibration, a living current rather than a fixed idea. Wisdom here is not knowledge, doctrine, or insight. It is the **living resonance of divine being itself**, flowing continuously through the depths of existence.
To drink this liquid sound is to participate in the silent music from which creation emerges.
At this depth, desire has been purified of every object. It does not long for peace, illumination, fulfillment, or even God as something separate.
It simply rests within the **maternal silence of the divine ground**, receiving life in its most original form.
This is why the desire is indescribable.
It is not seeking anything.
It has returned to the place **where all things begin before they are spoken.**