Kundalini
They told me it coils, waiting—
some snake of light
at the root of all this flesh.
But what stirred in me
was quieter than myth.
Not fire, not ecstasy—
just a flicker behind the ribs
when I wasn’t asking
for anything at all.
It didn’t climb,
it drifted,
slow and unsure
like the memory of a song
you’re not sure you dreamed.
No chakras flared.
No visions came.
Only my breath paused—
and for a blink
I wasn’t sure it was mine.
I stood still in the hallway,
half-listening
for footsteps that never came.
Was that spirit?
Or just the mind
finding a shape
for its own ache?
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