As satellite, I spin myself
and I am spun by greater hands
which afterward fold into prayer:
palms pressing appeals like treasure-petals
into cherished scrapbooks of gratitude
as gift for earth, or deity, or goddess,
or whatever we cannot conceive.
As explorer, I map myself
and I am led by greater worlds
which afterward play into dreamtime:
multi-dimensional dialogues with divinity
swept onto canvas mind in fine strokes
of evening indigo, or apricot, or burgundy,
or however coloured a spirit we become.
As poetess, I bare myself
and I am clothed by greater garments
which afterward rise on laundry lines:
Tibetan flags flown only to disintegrate
invoking mantras elemental as air
offering juniper, or incense, or herb,
or whatever appeases my recipients.
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.08 seconds at 6:23pm on Nov 10, 2024 via server WEBX1.