Wind In The Willows

(please read with two voices :)

Wind in the Willows

                             Ancient path confronts an angel

Soaring high above and beyond internalization...

                              Three degree drop,

And the dragon lifts its head.

                               We are reminded of the center.

Willows bend oaks do not.

                                         The absolute slippery like a pig evades...

 A kiss-a kiss-A Kiss Again!

                                         More than once I've seen this place

Thoughts cycled and recycled lead to redundant action transitory

                                        Re in Karmation.

A wave upon a wave

                                      We leave our lives as a willow leaf unfolds

Trees and treasoned

                                      Imprisoned in shells frail guilded.

                                      Creation singular was the game

Now two is the order of things

                                     As snow flakes melt we return to the source

Knowing well the way of the hard chrysalis

                                     We leave behind oaken things

Shiva's dance the space between the I's

The beat of the cosmic drum the balancing of the sacred fire.

                                   The crushing of the immutable

Personification of that which is not seen -  heard

                                  The echo of the infinite lying in your arms.

We remember our true names:

                                   Adamas and Oceana

Hardness never yielding shaping molding the cold granite of the now

                                  The prints of your fingers on our palms

The breath of your voice in our hearts

                                   Whispers of silent voids

We are brought to the edge of existence

                                  Barns burning in winter fields

Feathers falling away like past lives

We weave baskets from your star filled hair and find ourselves residual individuals.

Fingers emanating from one hand

                                                The cry of separateness leans hard against us.

But the alchemy of the creative moment whisks us away-away!

                                              From the common and ordinary

The illusory.