I miss you like the fear I know
And love you like the fear I don't;
So adding love to heaven's bow
I bow to wisdom's natural brunt;
That fathers me in bliss and blue
In temples of the sun gone down
In talk of wars of powers brute
Of fate and few's uncoloured frown.
This is that certain death,
For thou art that certain dream
Of mercy mild's baby breath;
From ground to sky to ground I seem
To find my own father in a sea of rainbow faces,
And when those clouds do part that sun that soul will find
all my secret places.
I will say now that
Men grieve and Women reason
To what cost I do not know
The secret words to your geography,
Though gently curving seasons through your gentle reason blow
To the being more the being
For the hieroglyphs he paints
Through the darkness of my seeing
All the sirens he acquaints;
Blowing colours in the leaves,
Whispering pages in the trees,
Or fusing light beams in the eaves
For the shadow thunder frees -
By what light this darkest space be filled
Lest woman man by Nature killed.
To the elements I pray to touch for touch
To traverse mushroom clouds of love
'Cross mountain plains of human voices such
Cosmography romantic - supple as a dove;
Naught but fire to the elements I pray -
Eucharist of mine own primordial lust
Of sex and death consumed by lips; say
Flesh and Water symbols of what they are and must
Forever need to be to nourish
The Gaia heart of cosmic child,
Light hands 'cross spaces pliant flourish
The form and weight of mercy mild -
Mine own metaphor a map to body brings
(Her love of holotropic things.)
Love's language in all star-filled wings.
My heart has nothing more to do than this
To re-create every moment of my life -
My heart has nothing more to do than this
To relate to every soul who's ever lived.
My heart is pounding magic
From out the forge of bio-rhythm,
And gods of old lay down their masks
For offerings burnt, reptilian skin.
The old songs quiet a restless mind;
The old ones herein live anew;
And same old magic shamans find,
As stars find new life in the dew -
Doing beats within profound;
Temples of our stellar ground.
You are an angel that rests upon golden wing
And picks 'til time and time anon the golden apples of the sun;
So changes painful blessings bring
To sing you to your chosen one;
So in our place in consciousness a tree stands for us tall;
So metaphors of sunlight issue forth from painted skies;
So many strokes across your skin from ocean's all;
So many faces score our wandering eyes -
Let these changes holotropic stand for language of our love,
For the meaning of the voice we hear right now,
Whose direction past nor future tells us of
The vision of the suns to whom we vow
To eat of one another's body, naked on the shore,
And proudly sing to Spirit for love's apples all the more.