Pathless

That path is best
whose first breath
is all you'll ever need.
There is a stream of wonder
that sings the ley lines of this
land with no name,
whirls the silken spindle of the moon, 
and puffs the stars like milkweed
over a bee-wild meadow.
Now it is midnight.
Stay awake.
This is when the Goddess comes, 
so lovely, almost naked,
draped in the silver veil
of your inhalation.
She drops the veil and you 
rest in her trembling presence.
Darkness, longing, prayer, 
three scents, 
one flowing nectar
that drips down your backbone.
Use that flowing
to polish your heart.