Wednesday, 28 April 2010

the way (over a full moon)

No essentially negative phenomena existed there, in the vast nebula which made the core of her thoughts. All trace of bitter toxic element was calmy spun toward perimeter. All was then softly jettisoned via the osmotic membrane. Into diffuse and endless galaxy...

Where such interminable emptiness and she left off, no one could say

The time was contextual, thoroughly understood, and could neither provoke fear nor worry in the heart of her people, of this long survived tribe of those sentients indigenous to la terre haute... indigenous to more than simple earth element...native also to loyal stubborness....to speaking the truth even if the truth refused to be spoken

In such moments, circled around the fire element, one who wore representation of this remarkable tribe would embrace his moment of contribution to suggest in tarnished paucity of tongue that such was true

Meaning the fog hid the vision
Meaning truth was hiding
Meaning they were seeking
Possibly desiring
Or even craving
Like waves
cresting

To touch the whole
full
moon


http://www.phillipscollection.org/research/american_art/artwork/Dove-Me_Moon.htm


The women were often silent around the fire
Mostly by choice
Interspersed among the men
They knew their place
had their voice

They took the careful mix of seasonal berries
hand picked off the bushes
in vast fields around them
by their children
close to dawn

They blessed then bled them out
Colorfully into brass bowls
saved for ritual

Then when the embers
of wood and water
were all thats left of fire
made by boys and men
they loved

The desire named earlier
for truth to form vision,
lost its frustration
saw resurgence
via alchemy

Compassion manifest
in waves around the circle
From center
rippling out...

Silently uplifting
the spirits of her people
Nothing she knew
could ever have equal

The young women moved with grace around the circle. They received the brass bowls filled to spill, morning harvest of fruit. Each held a secret recipe of color, drawn by auras colliding. To trust intuition was part of arriving. Yes they were chosen. Yet this was not planned. More subtle...

No one knowing

With mystery came the magic! The madness! the bubbling froth of mad river flowing.
How then was the choosing of chosen? What was the procedure, the manner, the technique? Such questions kept arising from those still asleep

By one knowing...
 An inside job really....
Mindful of energy...
self-aware...

These all could be answers to the questions
the hangups
the disconnections

the suffering

But rather than answer in such a coarse fashion, she
like her people
carried out the way as the way carried her.
She let her heart open as she painted the skin
of the man stood before her...

with fingertips she brushed him
with blue & straw berry essence

the patterns, the spirals
came out of shared vision
decisively rendered
like she had a mission

They smiled with the innocence
of those who are lovers


Her tribe
the whole lot of them
toward the same moon

up above us