The Grace of a Poem

Yesterday was filled with a painful challenge that was nourished by the calm of the sea and the play of the otters during New Moon Fire Ceremony. I came home and fell into the grace of this excerpt from the poem Temptress Visions.

All the stars in the sky

recall the purpose of your hallowed light.

Burn hole in through the layers.

Peel all the mockery away.

Enjoin the powers

to answer this call:

Bring the luminous vision

hidden behind the whirling particles

of the Mapmaker.

Let it enter me

like a shaft of light that enters a cave’s deepest measure.

Ancient fires still burn in these depths.

Who tends them?

What eyes are watching?

Waiting.

Waiting for time’s flower to bloom.

To submerge in the relentless subtlety

that moves beyond my reach

with a jaguar’s stealth.

To dream of elder ways

that leap over time

and leave behind the puzzle of our making.

                                                                              James, Wingmakers.

Photo credit smokeycat6, flikr creative commons

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