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There is a whole Universe inside my chest  

and my Heart is the Sun that neither rises nor sets  

But it does eclipse from time to time; 

the swirl of energy sets its course 

to turn and turn, becoming a black hole; 

swallowing everything it can, 

the universal devourer, before it 

bursts open again and pulsates 

one billion new stars, burning aflame  

in the cavity of this Universe. 

From these stars will come a thousand ideas, 

one hundred places that I will go  

whether here on Earth or in the land of dreams 

or anywhere a trance can take me; 

these stars will form constellations, 

their light qualities attracting energies 

from other universes so that they become 

a giant matrix in an endless sky. 

The dark matter, the stars, the sun, 

and the wind want to take up space--  

to stretch out over endless territory 

and proclaim their Beauty to the Night. 

They will also shrink and contract and 

sometimes they will even die or explode 

or simply fade away because everything 

is temporary in this unseen universe. 

Unseen but felt is my Heart, 

the eternal star of the I AM, 

known through the Ages, through the lands. 

to the Ancestors, through the wandering 

River of the Milky Way and 

woven with the great ribbon of Life. 

That is my Heart. 

Sovereign queen of the Universe 

that is inside of my chest.


Past lives, past versions  

we came together 

but fate intervened. 

We know each other 

from long ago. 

In a time that 

predates the linear 

we met and 

a strong bond 

was formed. 

There was a stitch 

in the folded patterns 

of Time 

where you knew 

all of the steps 

to my dance  

and I knew yours 

as well. 

I can't remember 

a time when 

we were strangers 

but equally cannot 

remember how we met  

and who we've been 

to each other since. 

Our bodies show 

different ages 

our lives have 

pursued different paths 

but still they touch 

and when they do, 

a memory of 

something older  

and stronger  

--a frisson of meaning 

ripples back to us. 

You smile and 

I see it in your eyes. 

I laugh and you

hear it in my voice. 

Deep down we know 

and we've always known:  

we can walk 

a million miles 

in opposite directions, 

can incarnate as 

this or that 

--different forms of you, 

a full variety of me--


And yet through 

time and space  

and iterations of recognition 

we call  

it Love anyway.


Sorrow sighs deep within me, 

a sigh that sings prelude 

to a mighty chorus of sobs. 

Tears and grief 

of the ages. 

It rolls through my chest--  

nameless, faceless  

but omnipresent, omniscient  

From whence it came, 

I do not know. 

It could be some past 

visiting me one last time--  

or maybe a future 

that will die 

and I will come to mourn. 

Grief, sorrow--  

they are not linear companions. 

Their stories are circular 

and if it is not one thing  

then it will be the next. 

on and on. 

So much sorrow. 

So sings my Heart. 

I can be lost to tears 

because it is my human duty to be so. 

To grieve and to hold myself 

as a precious delicate vessel 

of such raw, infinite 

transcendental emotion. 

To weep is to know 

some part of life  

in its existence, whole. 

Un fragmented. 

Complete and ready 

to dissolve itself 

back into the Mystery, 

leaving me with a space  

to return to water

through a thousand tears 


This Apathy

The morning rises  

replacing the dreamscape.  

I carry in the apathy 

that I traveled with 


Winter mornings are silent. 

No birds to rouse me. 

No entering heat to warm me. 

I think, "I am alone" 

and therefore, I am. 

My mind wants to 

eddy on something  

 but doesn't know what. 

My heart is still 

and whispering too quietly 

for me to hear. 

My state of being swings 

between the allness 

of the Divine  

and absolutely nothing at all. 

This apathy feels old--  

too old to tie to 

my mother or grandmother, 

though I know 

they've lived with it, too. 

The ragged DNA cells 

of a long suppressed matriarchy 

try to open 

like premature buds 

in the spring 

only to die and wither 

once more. 

The ancestors knock knock knock 

gently on the door 

of my awareness 

and await my bid 

to allow them enter. 

They walk with me silently  

never far away 

until then.

Change is happening 

but apparently not for me, 

and maybe not fast enough. 

The life I long for 

seems tied to the end 

of an invisible 

and never-ending string. 

We must rejoice in the journey  

I know this. 

But today it feels difficult 

to even want to feel 

simple things  

like the opportunity 

to once again 

greet the day  

 and be alive.

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