breathe


Sense the Bones‘ / deep down at the common ground is the key to it all: a right to life, a life that’s a rite for us all around / deep down in the humming hollow of our marrow where fluid flows and where feelings swallow and you’ll wallow at the core if you never give in to be moved / and nothing is ever truly still, even the mountains shift grade with the erosion of hills, the flux and wane of earthen upheavals / change change the only constant is change / and catastrophe is only outstanding if you never craft the ladders to last and timeless patience is the pattern of growth where minerals and elementals are the better builders of things ~
on the foundation where every one stands;
the collaborative designing
that everything brings
where intelligence sings
and unity rings
trans/fusions
trans/formations
be/come/ing the core of all be/ings;
trans/posing
trans/positioning
is the passage of self-healing
from humble steps in our making

. . .

What is this but the dawn, undaunted, trailing all a long on horizontals – a days’ untailing, catches in creations’ chases; a night returns in illuminations’ waning – over and over again with and out of ends, centered and care full: the origins of kin, kin ships, and carefully speak the name of what it is: not all that never was and all that has been, but speak clearly for what will be, should we choose willfully; the mending from the menaces of abusive idolatry. What hums in the womb where portals have become portending prolapsers for the proficiency of prophecy: that is life, given, unwavering, and resilient is the slipstream into the light of living and subtle is the known ascent for growing (and this delivery remains steadfast consistency: never changing) ~ passing through, always belonging. Here I ask, now, beyond the walls, out in the lands, as the imperialist empire built on delusion falls: how have you normalized and carried and passed their trauma since your arrival at birth, and who do you keep close to cure the curses carried in the geneā€¢rations: and here I answer, in reckoning, and considering – that in fertility is the healing, the time and means for poetry, intimate connectivity, the lusts for loving serendipity and so fearless openly ~ what speaks now in the stead of woeful abusive cyclery; what sprouts now by soils tilled from symbiotic synergy? If the dawn is the birthing of a new day – imagine now what thriving life looks like in the wake of our way: beyond the wishing and the waking there is the making and the willing and these are what rewildering from the oppressive obsessive trauma cult brings: a rediscovering in what power resides in regenerating: what becomes when beauteous mystery reigns: what rematriation will nurture from the dusks ’til dawns of our infinite rephrasings: wisdom borne from a balance restored within the wombs at the core of our every (be)ginn(ing)s.