By the pond

The fishpond has formed a vortex in the far end
as if the blend of wind and water had opened another possibility
a novel arrangement
like these words attempt to be,
blacksmithed around the ancient truths
unveiled in the now by a different tune
Where were you?

when the wolves came to play with the goddesses
unembarassed by their nakedness
both wild beasts staring at each other in admiration
leaping in excitement
feeling their hearts true desire
to run & hide one another
in the womb of the great mother

Lovers of shamen, these women
danced in the invincible arms of surrender
weaving their own destinies among mortal men
whilst whispering sweet secrets to each other
drinking the nectars of Life
and filling their cups again

Nothing else is there to be found but Love
in the bottom of the well as up in the rainbow mist
She knew as the volcanoes appeared from the dawns pink bliss
all existence to be a sacred play
of hide & seek
and when love was found and extracted
intensified in every encounter
& boiled down to dark, murky substance
that only the soul would volunteer to swallow
knowing the body would suffer

The lovers would break and weep in each others foot steps
never able to travel the galactic distances
while the souls would journey beyond dimensions
dropping all masks, veils and emblems of past
uniting their essences in the alchemizing pools of stars – to be born again
as one
to continue their joint evolution to the central sun
in burning yearning to stop existing
the bodies bleeding, shaking, howling and weeping
while the soothing ecstacy poured on them
from some unidentifiable source within
to bless their carnation,
this skinned separation
the un-Godliness in which their preciousness was felt, and held
by angels, demons and other entities in-between
peering in to solve Life’s greatest conundrum

Those otherworldly beings
were humbled by every rebellious child born, fed
now already taking steps into the culture of complexity
void of direction, purpose, certainty and stillness
somehow that child grows up to be a lover
clinging to that portal of emotion
that generator of meaning
until he, too, will come to swallow
all the poison of the earth
awakening his soul to do the work
leaving the body to dance with the wolves
and come again, into childlike innocence
god-hood

blessed be this day by the pond
where the goddess, poet and animal
have nothing to worry about
witnessing the play of the universe
softly whirling
all around them.

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