When the hills are burning bright
in the eye of the moon, bathing
in the summer sky you will circle
to the rhythm of the ancient tribes
spinning in a web of words
spinning in a sea of sound
these walls will collapse
about you as you
begin
to remember—
and you will remember—
for the rising eye will speak
out of the depths of each singular cell
like a phoenix streaming
through your limbs like a tree bowing
in the center
of the chaos of the confluent currents—
your feet, your hands, your lungs
will remember, will resurrect the future
in the still tongues of the infinite dream.
The moment unfolds
from our secret silence—
lotuslike, the Divinity
shines from our bodies.
Touch me, take me in
to your eyes--
do not be afraid
of falling.
We can only grow
in this space.