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 Anaïs Laurent 30.01.2010
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