Mother plays the harp
as bliss pheromones mingle
we feel our enlivened spine tingle
poised in stillness, our attention sharp
kundalini ascends upward, playing a harp
the harp we speak of has thirty three strings
where each vertebrae a unique note rings
with medulla knot being already open
soundless secrets to us are spoken
the mist rises to the Bindu point
we witness how Mother does anoint
back of head, capping it with God’s hand
an ascent wondrous we alone can understand
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
