Mother and Home

My hearth, my home, the very essence of life.
She is a churning furnace of jubilation.
She is the brace around my flesh and under my feet.
She is like quicksand swallowing death and regret.
She posses the nurturing womb for all creatures and man.
She is the birth place of life as it is known to exist.
What strong arms she welcomes me with, and a heart
That surly can hold no hate or pain, only love
It flows from her like molten rock, devouring,
Filling everything with beauty and ecstasy.
She is a shining beacon hurling through an endless void.
Her movement manufactures our most precious dimension,
Time, what would our existence mean without it?
Her endless dance, twirling, spinning, around and around,
She grants us every artifact, every emotion,
Even our very existence.  She is perfection, Life.