The Tapestry of Life

A ghost of a word offers a seed of light,

a wormhole of thought that echoes through the night,

threads of life that reach out and cross your path

a patchwork of tales that speak of the earth.

*

To weave into its fabric I take a deep breath,

interconnect with the mandala and its tender caress;

I give back, breathe out and harvest a flower,

a chain reaction of life and her creative power.

*

Circles within circles each a hologram of the all,

in the whisper of the wind and the smell of a rainfall,

the tides of the ocean drawn by the command of the moon,

the passionate calling of the cycles within my womb.

*

The spiral dance of the stars flow through my veins,

rivers of truth amassed from timeless rains,

cascading down to my deep mountain pool;

knowledge is a mirror that accepts no fool.

*

The beast of the beacons that devours you whole,

liberating your consciousness to the collective soul.

The tree that fells and embeds as a trace of the past,

entwines into the tapestry and forms a new quest.

*

Its spirit will dissolve into the ancestors of time

and its branches re-embody creating the sublime;

like a shadow of my past that perished in my heart,

nourishing my soul and engraving my art.

*

‘Black implies white and self implies other’,

I’m no stranger in this world my existence I discover.

Dancing in lush pastures where creativity is rife,

to weave into the golden tapestry of life.

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