It is an illusion.

The pain. It is not real.

It’s been weeks. Months, really.

The belly swells, feet the same.

Yet, day beyond day. The anticipation.

The fear of impending pain

battles expected relief.

Fruit of holy love

will soon breathe it’s own breath.

But when?

At long last, the deep moan begins.

The world recedes as God’s purpose for this body shines through.

A wave of pain; a swell of love.

The relief of pain brings only impatience for the next wave;

a hunger and sorrow for the separation of two joined souls.

To love with no thought of self;

to welcome the pain of the descent.

A wave of pain; a ride through the limbs.

Slowly it touches every nerve,

as the deep moan travels on.

We are one, soon to separate.

Life emerges; so soon, the end.

Relief, joy, love.

Sacrifice.