…The Dance
A conscious waiting is before us all…A femto-second by femto-second dance with terran gravity, and with the stars that reach to us, is just barely known to us by hour, by day…but it’s there.
Of her moving mound of atoms…
There is just so much movement and so many jiggling things around us that make up our All…our natural her, who, add for add, moves always toward us even from the future…with All her living, All her gravities, All the time.
Emptying and pouring…
When she is there, I feel sort of vacuumed all over inside, especially when I see something new about the cosmos that I did not know, or when I turn a corner in my mind and see her in a new ‘dress’…takes your breath away—like the awesome view that I found of a path that lanes over five summits to my white castle. (see in Dumas Gallery)
This pouring from me to her, and back, is a song of shade falling over each sentient particle of my known ego…often I wonder, are there new particles being birthed within me when I get smacked by this dancing honor.
Not only are the hills alive with music of the soul, but my sleep is crowned with a dark matter that I have always known but --and still-- cannot ‘see’. This dream state is a virtual air that lingers in my boudoir, favored by me smilingly as we two hover under warmth of covers crouched together like unborn twins in heated bondage…My red dimpled cells that carry her molecules brighten all the rivers of my REM.
Exalting her ‘I’…
The more words I know as I read and think with her (and investigate her ‘I’) the more I am impregnated with her sense and sensibilities and believe-depend on this power that makes me live, shouting and singing to the oft-sad winds that blow through...Only by knowing her ‘new’ words am I exalted by her beauty therein.
Of my amygdalated enchantment…
Dancing in this All reaches--like it does to others--into my Amygdala and when I am known through my daily walks, when I am seen counting the ants on tree bark, those who watch see that grandeur smile on my face as I wander and wonder out under her light.
(Amygdala, where smiles originate in the brain, shortened enough...)