Welcome Woven Spirit-in-me Pendulum

January 14 & 15, 2010

Welcome woven spirit-in-me pendulum,
welcome sunrise quilt with together-pockets of
isolative majesty,
welcome lover-iron-pinecone weight additions
hanging from ether-strand chains
subtly pulling time around and around
by cocoon-hanging downwards,

And thank you spirit essential undone
from desks sensed as crowded in by Space
where fairies reside crocheting
with icicles thawing
and yarn-balls wound into snowballs,
cool marble reliability
and no doubts that love-light exists…

Thank you lighthouse marvel,
solid golden lotus rising
having been born risen,
dancer-beacon of differences
and mysteries sure of No Endings…

Love to you Void-hewn lover,
black Space honesty,
mirrors who speak to the muted,
muted who dream of silvers
that sing in jars on shelves,
while horizontal rivers of red hearts
pulse by, gently brushing against
transparent, hookless lines of surrender…

Welcome sky-thoroughfare Black Falcon,
returner, wave-maker, non-happenstance,
timid ferocity in the breath of a sable brushed
Egyptian hieroglyph newly painted,
with no bristles left behind,
live-weightlessness heart and holy dense
beamed eyesight sighing in the feast
of Holy yeses said aloud by an old man
praying for prayer books to open within himself.

Welcome Dancer of child-rewarding-
bejeweled crown and cape non-pretender
of inner play that creates Here-exited-reality
called This Day,

Of forests hewn from one planet sized diamond,
eyebrows filled with gold coins
waterfalling into no rainbow endings,
only round color rings,
and a pot of gold as the Central Sun dripping
beaming as straw bales of stars
twinkling rayed,
multi-spectrum eyesight…

Welcome God-inhale,
giver of my eye color,
of the scent of this breath,
of that which is formless in me
who love-touches this form filled
exhaled Spaciousness bewildering golden
spilling-spectrum kaleidoscope
of all-I in Thee.

Welcome denial of tomorrow-peace,
welcome Non-welcome mat at a door
who is a reflection of unmasked-I
expecting the now to be a gauze
of the Then that has no true war-wounds
who are wishing for no new cellular glowing
to be gathered as pink renewal,

Welcome lover of nothing,
Nothing who births Love’s always
and mosses
who support the heaviest of exaggerations,
whispering them into flag-flapping seeds,
whispering them into the monsoonal lips
of the Earth’s round mouth parting,
and served as a love-answer-color
to a blessed green sprout reaching…