The Descent
The wisdom of the ancient ones
Rests in a sky
Of emptiness
Suspended in mid-air
Seemingly motionless
With no place to call home
Eventually though
The pull of gravity
Will tug on the apparent nothingness
Because it is not really
Nothing
Something is there
We are like magnets
We cannot help it
This is just how we are made
By no volition of our own
Wisdom travels downward
From the open empty sky
Into all of this
Pulsating, vibrating,
Rich, green tapestry
When love has grown weary
Of his nomadic pursuits
He will long for a home in you
So close your eyes
And feel the breath
Moving through your body
Are not the sky
And your breath
Made of the same air?
Does not the stillness
Of the transcendent
Shine brightly in the temple of form?
And does not this body
Need to be kissed by love
To experience joy?
When he pours himself
Into her
All distinctions dissolve
Two halves
Who had once choreographed
An illusory dance of separation
Merge harmoniously
In a fresh and sacred movement