This may appear all that is left
after the lifeblood’s power is sown
in places so needed, its source emptying, an echo
as your voice is thrown into midnight or dawn,
when everything that could take you to
the core of need and fear and desire and loss
has done so, then again done so deeper.
That is when to wait, to pause and gather
the lost bloom of your life, cradle it in hand,
feel its riffling curves, its dense symmetry
and memorize its lushness as the center of you
expands and you cannot denythe ineffable joy
nor it, you
Tales for Life 
Beautiful and evocative, Cynthia – this is a familiar feeling that you put so perfectly into poetry.
Many grateful thanks to you for reading my posts and appreciating this poem. My pleasure. The feeling, as you note, and the principles mean much to me.
Beautiful thoughts which repaid repeated reading
Ah, humbled by your words. I repeats these themes often but they are mainstays for me…thank you for reading my posts.