Looking steadily into my shyly cloaked eyes,
His arms encircled but barely embraced me, pulling me closer.
Then slowly sank his soft and gentle hands to gracefully poise above
The life-giving Chakra at the base of my naked spine.
Heating, throbbing, at once igniting the all-creative center
Now expanded in a glorious rise from momentous peak to peak.
He made no touch to interfere with the glorious rhapsody of pure Energy.
No words were needed to break the trance or describe what only ecstasy can convey.
Oneness swirls in shades of red about our conjoined bodies,
Two atoms made sacred exploding into One as our Kundalini rises.
They said
she imagined it–
that flicker in her spine,
like a vow whispered
between the bones,
a hush older than memory.
no temple,
no mantra,
no saint's breath on her shoulder–
just a silence
that split her
softly
like dawn splits shadow.
something rose–
not seen,
but felt,
like a secret carried
from life to life,
finally unfolding.
it wasn't light,
not yet
it was heat
that knew her name.
each breath shimmered,
each thought dissolved
until she wasn't girl or name
but wind,
and flame,
and everything in between.
was it fiction?
maybe.
but the fire didn’t lie–
and neither did her eyes
afterward,
still glowing
with the memory
of being touched
by something
The world could not explain.
Queen of Heaven,
Lady of Solitude,
Sovereign of the Universe,
Opener of the Way,
Mistress of Angels,
Hail, O Builder of the Universe,
Graceful mysterious rose,
Refuge from despair,
Gate of Dawn
Whence light is born
Whom all in heaven see
As fairest of the fair and
Strongest of the strong.
Hail, O First Cause,
O Crown and Throne,
Soil and Flower,
Aether and the Sea,
Dragon-quelling
Slayer of demons and gods
Saboteur of all cruelties;
O, Glorious rutting virgin
Utmost benefactress
Devour our sufferings
Liberate us from our chains,
Gladden with your blessings.
Arzhang, the mirror of sublime wonder
Not the manmade clamour of a corpus
But beauty to make all split asunder
Beauty: Purposiveness without purpose
To prove to all trapped life, including us
To ascend past the black clouds of reason
To the Pleroma, with its sublime sun
The source of every beauty in the all
Arzhang, the art of Mani and the Son
Sensuous semblance unveiled, heaven’s call
My head bowing
Whispering tongues
Breathing silence
ancient Aztec communication mask
with her brilliant fluorescent lines
comes alive in the deepest recesses of the caves
unseen by humans
revered by spirits of the otherworld
mysticism is afoot
Mashoq jay razi na hovay nach kay manana painda
Jay tun bhalu nu manana pehlay sain nu manaa
Jhalya bhalu manana sokha sain manana aukha
Nach kay sain nu mana pavain loki akhan kanjar
Jhalya bhalu manana sokha sain manana aukha
Jay tun bhalu nu manana pehlay sain nu manaa
Mashoq jay razi na hovay nach kay manana painda.
I dreamed I was hanging out with Darroll near the train station. We entered a prison cafeteria and ate lunch. Then we looked in a junk store and I found two really cool vintage iron tools which I gave Darroll for his rusty iron tool collection (which, in my dream, he had). At some point a big book shelf fell over. We did some other stuff and then it was time for him to go so he revved up his shoes, leaned forward, and sped away to the sound of a pair of tiny lawnmowers.
Her inner knowing
kept her apart from the others
not that she was better
but she was hyper vigilant
more aware of their dangers
she sensed their meanness
being an empath
boded well
being a healer and an empath
was a double whammy
she felt more strongly than many others
She had to protect herself a bit
She was a life-long learner, inquisitive
enthusiastic about mysticism and spiritualism.
most of her relatives did not understand,
her mother thought she was odd.
her sister told her that she was crazy.
Daddy understood.
They often passed each other in their dreams
during astral travel.
Stonehenge sang to me.
Singing stone-age ancestors.
They chant in the stars.
mysticism loved herself
sharing optimism with oaks
natural ethereal magic
Anyone can find the luster,
the perennial ecstasy of so many rites.
We may access luminosity with
mindful meditation, reflection, or prayer.
Call it God, Allah, or immutable purity,
Call it Christ, Yahweh, or satori,
Call it nirvana, moksha, or inward light.
Selfless actuality,
perfect radiant quietude,
rapturous awakening or salvation.
In every creed a different lexicon,
every culture has a unique vocabulary for
our common humanity,
our universal mystical window.
He rounds himself around me like water rounding sea
curving my fears with His breath upon a cloud of nine
I become the prayer that I utter as I worship on my knee
the sun has yet to set the moon is cresenting, I'm fine !
Love, Pixie
It was another caramel summer day
melting all the furniture
and dripping from every memory.
It was the high noon shadowless roadway
sweltering stillness of burning tar
and glutinous in scorching injury.
There was the sky of permanent porcelain,
a cloudless azure ceiling
of blistering sun.
All retention or anticipation,
the spacetime continuum
vanished, vanquished
by unrelenting summer day.
Human beings are natural mystics.
And irrational characteristics
often lead us astray,
keeping logic at bay.
Satan tempts us with facts and statistics.
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