Thursday, May 17, 2012

memories of darkness

I am the white tree, I am the crescent moon, I am the cow patiently watching the grass sway in the wind, I am the wind; and as the wind I surround you, and I become you: for you are also at this moment of weightlessness freed from your own identity and your own reality, and you are the planet Mars and you are the grasses swaying in the wind and you, too, are the wind. We, all, are freed from the constraints of form, we are released from our own identities, and in this freedom of being the cosmic wind we surround and become and are the heart of the universe.  At this hesitation, the night sky at its darkest, the stars vivid lights, beacons of the boundaries of the potential world, at this indrawn breath, we dream.

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May 11, 2012
writing in the shadow of a birch tree, reaching into the night sky