I was looking up at the moon and i saw a faint reddish glow across it’s shadow’s edge and it was most wonderful… it looked so three-dimensional as if it were a paper lantern hanging just fifteen feet above me and I always think of you when I find myself astonished by such things, humbled and exalted all at the same time as if I’m not just a place on a continuum, but in actuality the same… the same as the moon and the field of space between us.  It’s just an illusion, this notion of separateness, a trick of the human mind, useful only to keep me walking upright, keep me from stepping out into onrushing danger.  As I was there with this oddly beautiful moon I was also oddly there with you, wondering as I tend to do, if you were looking up to see it’s same reddish shadow’s edge, looking into this same night sky, this same gulf of space that touches me.  It touches you on the other end… like a hand shake, no, like an embrace, both of us gathered under the same light from the same night sky.  I wanted to call out to you.  “Get thee outside!” “Come out immediately and see me, see our moon!”  We aren’t separated really, are we?  The moon isn’t fifteen feet above me, but it’s there. It colors my mind and heart and sends me an embrace in your arms through the night sky.

wading

waiting

wallowing

swallowing

filling and following

this time it matters as

every time

as not even time at all

scattering

I ask for hope and you give glowing jeweled embers from the nest of your heart, sweetest invitation, calling to join in and dash bitter corrosive elements, realised, our living day the vista is eternal present, throbbing, radiating, lighting this path we’ve stumbled on for far too long. It’s true, our human struggle shifts in wide focus as our Love knows the way. What is to forgive in birth?

and he opens me in

as never seen before

recognized immediately

angular and fluid

familiar voice in the foreign

without words/calling

a gesture, a glance, a fragment

his brightening cloud sheltering

his darkening cloud whisking

touching

showering warmth

through shining drops

into the core of me

pressing my hidden buttons up and down

all right/alright

and creates me

and continues to

and will

elastic, in the true sense of the word. Not…

…Not that nasty binding, pinchy part of paradigm granny’s underwear, no.

I’m talking about e l a s t i c… pliable, moving easily…  That’s what I want to be.  When I saw a video of an octopus inserting herself (so gracefully) into a small bottle opening to grab a bit of food, well, I have to tell you I was enraptured. I was filled with a combination of joy and fascination.  What would it feel like to have that body, that nervous system, those eyes?

DAMN! That’s when I realized the octopus would never, never ever, wonder that about me or my ilk. And wondering is a very nice thing as well as elasticity… yes, wondering about being elastic and wondering about flying with your arms and wondering about breathing water and eating sunlight…

Wondering can be my elasticity.