Just Like That

(the pure sound flows….)

In the marrow, ripples the Sound:
crystal sand shifting, shaping its eclectic geometries
honey-dripping, reflective, refractive, mirror-bright
heart-divine’s pulse and handedness
velvet in my wriggly veins and singing bones
skin prickling, the breath storm-brim
every photon, shot along its vagrant harmonics
fizzing at stellar spaces petticoats
sequined a’dazzle, pirouetting on the Instant Now.

The timelord crouches over her chanting tools
those extraneous instruments - drum, gong, bowl
besides her fanned dragon-fingers spread like wings
whirring, weaving their witchy magick
the silvery elixir of ecstasy no woozy dream
but diamond sharp, awake and present
solidly in-flesh like molten ore, incorruptible, irreducible
beyond the quantum leap to … Beyond.

Then the tape, note stops.
Just like that.

The Silence is so loud
shouting its inwardly resonances like thunder banging on the sky’s wide gates:
reverberating across those lolloping pastures
and crashing in great bolts of fire into the sacred Ground.
It shivers and fritters at edges, raising goose-bumps, hair on end:
it’s mantra the intention before it gets a voice:
pure as the otherworldly springs of Alachua
lucent, luminous, the surface invisible
it’s seperateness a mere assumption.

Even the gristle in my eyeball, my bloodless spleen
vibrate and seethe, bright and full with being
dancing to their own inimitable versions, downloaded, upgraded
via their own unique filters, according to their own divers needs
the frequency extempore, broadcast endlessly.

What is left
in that embryonic vacuum of no-breath, in-between pulse
the moot moment when the pendulum lolls between up and down
this or that, here or there, before or aft
is (the Intent..)to flick the switch, strum the string again
let the heart beat, the lungs In-hale, the creative thought impel into the biosphere
striking the chords of Life itself
instantaneously self-creating every nano sec;
no thing is nothing - it verifies and declares its inviolacy
with the trumpetings of sapience, design -
that ancient Word free-birthing in blood
and - ah me!
almost unbearable cosmic joy.