Motion Practice

Seven Morning Stars In the western Carpathian piedmont Which my grandfathers left long before, The peregrine falcon flees likewise From a tableau of fresco tradition, Superstition, and tempera myth. The me of then bested the alpine pass Where Hannibal lost his eye. The I of now has met equal regard, Evoking the grim determination With which Henry took Harfleur. Astronomical winter commences With numbing indifference. Indifferent as I am to distraction, Focused on habits of antiquity And methods of calm consistency. A Zen ritual neatly informed By the flowing advent of water. Frictionless as lighthouse mercury. Liquid in form and function. A fluid collaboration of body and mind. A calligraphy of sinewy limbs In an illuminated manuscript Documenting Sanskrit whispers Keeping the humors in balance Aligned with the pace of breathing. A disciplined manual of arms and legs. A pacifist drill exhibiting military precision, Casting well-aimed volleys and salvos. Performing atheist miracles. Conjuring Merlin-like spells. Mastering all the rumored labors And sundry assorted tasks, I claim my rightful inheritance In this temple of redemption Where one cannot tell Zion from Babylon. THIS SPACE RESERVED FOR FULL RANGE OF MOTION, BALANCE, AND CORE STRENGTH TRAINING