this mystical union, turning of vine over bough, serpent around Eve’s ankle, receptive goddess that yields her everything, paralyzed by the gorgons eye, in one continuous moment the cosmos blinks out of existence, steady pulse and fiery eyes the only indication she’s even alive. From the foam she is born, out of the ash heaps the phoenix arises

The strength of ten men, that of Samson felling the towers, tremendous god like energy filling my very being. The energy is so alive, it’s palpable, I can see it jotting out from my fingertips, I am voodoo priest calling for the dark and the shaman trying to banish it, I am the lion hunting it’s prey in the tall savannah grass and I am the antelope seeing my reflection in the winding river.

I collapse feeling I am all of these things and at the same time none of them.



One thought on “Spring

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