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.
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