yoga is tantra

there is an ice blossom that fields snow white blooms



in jagged mountain crevices that ache and moan



amidst the sacred pines of Bear Creek and Wolf Canyon



below Seal Rock.



Here I find myself again.



Again and again, here I find myself,



ever and ever I find myself exactly here,



here and no other.



Forgive me, Great Spirit,



even as I know what I do



without doing anything about it.



My impervious laziness chains me to my self



the world changes around me, and I do not change,



I bear the brunt and fold under the weight,



I am worn down by time.



Aach, ancient ones, share with me your peace,



your sense of quiet purpose in contentment.



Share with me your slow measured life



and your clockless time.





and you, valued witness, esteemed reflection of



multifaceted oneness,



Sink with me, sink deep under



into nothing,



where there is no release















and in rare and all-too-dappled glistening sunlight



of space and time beyond measure, without rhyme



I am traveling so far away,



that I may be born again.



At last I have found my home, dear friends,

my love has called me home,



nevermore wandering alone, my friends,

nevermore doomed to roam.



This is a world reborn, my friends, a doomed and failed last stand



fell over and tumbled

and perished and crumbled

and nourished a desolate land



and we are the ancient archangels and angels

and demons and lepers and whores,

we are Atlantic Lemurian starchildren

posing as intellectual bores



and I Am is too tired to function

space opens, revealing ancient mountains

razed by timeless winds too high and fierce

for words or thoughts-

there demons dwell

and practice peace.



Om shanti shanti shanti