O Mother of God— not the marble woman of the basilicas, not the pious dream men kneel before in candlelight, but You, the dark, molten, breathing Mother— You whose body is the living globe, whose blood is the running sea, whose breath steams in the mouths of beasts and men, whose womb burns under every seed that grows! You who before all priests and prophets uttered the first word in the long black night— and that word was