Kundalini Splendor

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Wednesday, January 23, 2008

The Fingerprint of a Pharaoh 

The Fingerprint of a Pharaoh

True, we are dust,
but dust piled
on dust.
The fingerprint of a pharaoh
wing of a fly,
spark from falling comet,
a bit of camel dung.

Some say that everything
is holy,
each particle a remnant
of the unseen divine.
Fragments of the god,
the all seeing sculptress
of all that is,
begetter of earth and all its elements,
perceived and sensed.

For a fleeting moment
we inhabit form.
And then I think,
what rises
escapes once more
into another place
where shape
no longer matters,
where everything is singed
with beauty,
seared by delight,
a sudden breath,
and we again become
the flame.

Dorothy Walters
January 22, 2008

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