Vivian #2

Sitting at the Center, guardian of the subtle realms. Tuning the harmonics. Watching the formation of galaxies, concepts and thought. Resonance through the traditions of the rabbis and scholar-priests.
But the lover calls!

Rushing into embodiment: mother, pirate, slave and master; African rhythms. The old knowledge made alive in song, revealing itself in the painter’s touch, the passions of the city’s streets.
But the scholar calls!

Translator, reclaim your library. Pick up the old texts scattered on the floor. Your heart is woven of many texts, and in your center the harmony forms.
The musician always calls!

It is your container that holds all that arises.
In your peace, the Beloved calls.

Raqiba

Tight-fitting clerical garb.
Your blessing force channeled through ordained ritual.

Now, dancing free. Your field a mirror of the clear night sky.
Yet, anchored in the core. We all gather in the depth of your gaze.

Pamela - Fazl

Walking across the red coals, you turn and smile at the gathered crowd.
All eyes on your feet, few see your furrowed brow.

You hold the karmic lattice steady, allowing blessing to flow forward, down the generations.

In this world, dissonance yields its place as your breath reforms that ancient structure, and those calloused feet dance this time on the soft grass.

for Vivian

Sitting at the cave's mouth, the stream emerges at your feet in mists of sweet harmonies.
Old elementals dance in the reflected sunlight, blessing us from water, earth, fire and air.

Deep pool. The "hu" from which all manifests.
This too is your crowning.
Your breath grounding us in the Now, before all the forms.

I know that your light is already turning the sailor-adventurer, sculptor-poet, back to port once again.