Meditation On Movement

Before we utter a word Before thought is formed within our temples We are movement What gods of old Have abandoned Flesh impure For the pristine ghosts of Spirit Which have no touch, nor sex, Nor hair, nor raiments; Perfection, always another world, Looms dark above our Brighter home of body And breath. A miracle is activated And the physical form Is propelled through a lifetime, breaking down Towards death, yet Movement, the noble charger, Lifts us unto immortals flying Not through sky but over graves where Abandoned Thoughts lay, motionless. Before life’s doorway, We move; Before death’s narrow passageway, We move; In embrace, in torment, in peace, in battle, We are movement.