What is the womb?

It's green in the mountains
Spring has arrived.
The air is still cold from the winter snow,
Air crisp, one's soul can breathe here.
The wind threatens to be killing
But comes and goes.
Sometimes merry.
Sometimes somber.

It changes to a rose, thorny in the night.
An old soul, a young face brightens and ages
Withers then dies.

Church bells, funeral bells, dinner bells
Wedding bells, Hell's bells,

A wailing woman sits in the background
Whether she wails from pain or suffering
Or just to hear her voice do it.
Then it fades.

I wonder if my mind is changed by this.

A truck travels down a night road
Forever, the truck goes on,
Forever.

Eternity beckons, I follow, saxophone in tow.
The moments like this when a jazz musician plays on,
Play on in the night, oh peice of eternity!

This is the dreaming part.

A child is born. He cries and cries.
The mother is patient, kind, sweet.
There is no greater love than that which this mother gives.
He grows and grows, eventually will die.
And we wonder why babies cry.
The love is always there.

Waves of sound in my ears.

What is the womb?