Monday, 23 September 2013

The Tipping Point




At the tipping point
Between the in breath and the out breath
Between the sun and the moon –
We came to dance together
Celebrating the very shift of gravity.


Pushing out to the very edge
The boundary of woods and fields
One step further to untangle the senses in open space
From the density, the complexity of the woods,
So releasing myself toward distance and beckoning hills.

Yet the woods have penetrated my being
With foraging roots taking fast hold
Growing down through my sex into the earth
Reaching beyond the senses, beyond vision,
Nourishing the same self in all its simple complexity.


One quiet breath overlays another
Feathering the one into the next and the next.
The song of scattered yellow leaves as stars
Unfolding in the river of becoming.



No wind to disturb
Leaf towers holding up the sky
The call of the unseen owl
The foraging rustle of the dark –
The softening fall of autumn.


Dreaming awake
Dreaming to awaken,
Soft breath making a circle of emptiness.







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