Trickles

Light shimmers on air-struck fire,

a match to aether bright

Blood red, tarnished gold

petal of poppy in our veins...

And the ice within

surrenders, s l o w l y,

lapping at the unconscious,

sieving through porous intellect,

trickling down to lower levels,

embalming each chakra

on the energy path,

gathering momentum

until the impossible

happens:

passion and peace

prepare the royal way

to contemplative silence.

 

Nyuka Anas Laurent    30.01.2010