Kundalini Splendor

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Saturday, June 05, 2010

Holy Fire (poem) 


Some love like
packed volcanoes exploding,
ash and fire
spewing over mountains and shores
igniting everything in their path,
as if all history,
stretched to the edge,
were returning
in a river
of hot remembrance,
a blaze
of flowing passion and grief,

Fields turn into lakes of flame
devouring air, swallowing sky.
Earth surges in streams of
blood and clay,
and trees are sudden torches,
beacons signaling
distant heaven.

Other loves are like soft candles
that spread their glow
into the curtained corners of the house,
hands of light
soothing the darkness,
caressing the quiet

Who is to say
which is god?

(from "A Cloth of Fine Gold")

(image from Wikipedia)

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