birth that Star –
just like you birthed –
that baby –
on the living room rug –
through the center –
of the white OM –
that winter morning –
you can do it –
you are made for this –
natural Movement –
of the body –
unspoken Prayer –
of the Beingness –
the green of the buds –
shriveling to brown –
holds the secret –
the soothing oils –
for the dry skin –
and wounded heart –
seven kinds –
of Stars –
in a line –
top to bottom –
all you need –
for the hatching –
of the gosling –
of your Freedom –
don’t compare yourself –
and your life –
to the suffering –
you make up –
the ones who have –
what you want –
or so you think –
well-worn path of –
UnTruth –
that causes harm –
the direction of the West –
loves me –
the Tree of Life –
blesses me –
the Sacred Plants –
seek to ease my way –
the Morning Star –
greets me with Joy –
and so –
I go with that –
aware of the shadowy shapes –
that shiver –
at that assumption –
they slither in sorrow –
afraid of being seen –
in their need –
hunted down –
and slaughtered –
I rise as the Saviouress –
I draw myself up –
lift the Crown –
seven stories up –
and an extra 33 feet –
my antennae –
reach up –
loping flowers –
atop the head –
catch the beams –
sun –
moon –
stars –
to fill my pockets –
to feed the broken ones –
who really aren’t –
but think they are –
and feel that way –
heal them up –
I picture the desired outcome –
and it is –
the Unified Offering –
of Me –
I draw my Beloved –
to me –
and I am Him –
holding me close –
bellies pressed –
and inner Breath –
the Ocean –
in my Dreams –
belongs to me –
and not other –
Pure Heart –
and the erotic sung –
with the same Voice –
Wakinyan –
cast your bolt –
of electrical current –
and I cast mine –
for we are the Same –
the Holy Wars ended –
nothing to strive for –
resting in the Grail of Perfection –
that already is –
surprised when the outer –
doesn’t match up –
YET –
you can’t compare –
the Majesty –
of the Maltese Falcon –
with a clock –
on the wall –
hard to believe –
the Gifts that I am given –
and the ones –
who argue –
with receiving them –
don’t worry –
about trying to convince them –
just breathe in their smell –
and rub their bellies –
so tender –
so precious –
is the death –
in these arms –
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