Kundalini Splendor

What I Have Come Here to Know

It did not always arrive     

in words.

Sometimes it was

just a feeling,

holding the hand 

of someone you loved

or the tumultuous waves

that washed through you

when you were dissolved

totally and knew nothing

but the bliss of the invisible,

come to claim you

as its own.

I could name things:

Mozart lifting you

to a place beyond the supreme moment

your body trembling

toward a different realm,

too intense to bear––

those leaves stirring within

as they shared their joy

with me, the witness––

those sweet frequencies that rose up

from earth itself

and captured you

in Ireland's sacred places,

your heart exploding

with unquenchable desire.

And of course

there were the dark opposites:

the betrayals,

the broken promises,

the desertions by the faithful.

All knit together now

into a single ball of truth,

a blend of everything

into a shining perception

of final reality,

how you are now mixed together

as one.

Dorothy Walters

November 21, 2020

The Evolute

If you wish to transmute,

open yourself to change.

Le the vibrations of transmutation

flow through your being

like a gentle wind  caressing a rose

that opens its mouth to rain,

a bud that waits 

for the awakening sun.

Yes, you can hear without ears,

see without eyes.

These are done by the invisibles

again and again,

even without your knowing

or recognition.

But if you are wed 

to the realm

of the senses,

you will not reach

the kingdom I describe.

You will reject its perfections

for a world more familiar,

and wonder why anyone

would desire to enter

the realm of the immutable––

you will be content to remain

where you are, perishable

as a shadow in moonlight.

You will never know

the world of

formless beyond form,

the permanent after the ephemeral,

the embrace of ultimate bliss,

union with the unseen divine.

You will never find

your cosmic lover,

trembling as the earth shudders,

shaking within as secret love enters,

all in time with the leaf that wavers

now in your chest.

Dorothy Walters

November 20, 2020

The Warbler Knows

By Ivan M. Granger

(1969 - )

The warbler knows

only dawn's shaft

of light

on her breast.

Forgetting false future

suns, she sings

in no voice

but her own.

Ding, dong,

the witch is dead!!