Thread

 

Up and down the spine

breath flows, poured out

through your sacrum,

spilling distant suns

into the green well

of your planet,

then filling your axis mundi

to the crown, charging

heavenly spheres with new light,

each ray of inhalation ever

so gently held, a glittering

filament of ecstasy

piercing the furthest world

where you came from

and where you will return,

bearing the wisdom-fruit

life after life, breath after breath;

for isn't each lifetime a breath

on a rosary of globes,

Sushumna beads

spiraling up your backbone,

healings that only happen

because each precious drop

of dew, of what is possible,

pearl moment, swirl of worlds,

is hollow at its core?

And all their hollows make you whole.

The stars are not as far off as you thought.

It was your thinking that

distanced them, these ancient friends,

fellow pilgrims on the rising falling path

of awakening.

Meet them with a holy kiss.

Pass right through their bodies,

pearl moments, swirl of worlds...

You are the thread.

You are the path

through every tear.

And all their hollows make you whole.

Art from Quanta Magazine