Kundalini Splendor

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Tuesday, August 01, 2017



No, it will not happen again,
that moment before the waterfall,
unleashed fury,
or on the beach in Oregon when
you realized that this was it,
the peak, the highlight,
the crash and boom of
waves against shore,
your life would never reach
this pitch again.

Or the times in the mountains
when the others lugged
tremendous logs
for the fires
and the sparks rose
like departing spirits
into the sky and we all
drank too much wine
and spoke brilliant words
of wisdom.
How did we ever
make it down?
Angels guarding the young.

Or that special kiss
that still burns
in your memory,
or the walk in the woods
when everything turned
purple wildflowers and the bark overcoats
of trees,
all lit with transcendent candles
from within.

Or the night journey
across the desert
when everything swam
in moonlight,
another realm,
golden, ethereal.

Nothing repeated, ever,
some sort of magic
come down,
now it is of
a different kind,
always fresh inside,
just as you can never
hear a piece of music
twice in the same way,
feel a poem strike
the same chords,
or meet someone again
for the first time.

Dorothy Walters
July 31, 2017

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