Shakti

How does the Serpent

dance without feet?

By standing on the tip of her tail,

rooted in the loam beneath

your belly.

How does she hug you

without arms, without hands,

stroking your hair,

placing two fingers

like white petals on your crown,

running them down the nape

of your neck, your spine?

She whirls inside her stillness,

and you feel everything.

How does she carry you off

and bear you up without wings?

By sending the golden boat

of your own breath,

laden with 10,000 suns.

O take that voyage,
throw away the oar,

become a sail.

And how does she
speak to you in silence,
imparting your secret name
without a word?
She listens, She listens
to your cries of longing.