Eureka

Could you approach infinitesimally to a sanctuary?
Would it be a choice, the subtle space-like difference? If so, what observations do we want to become aware of in such a miniscule unit? Whence time as we know it grossly collapses, things too turn to fluid, revealing the beings within their fluctuations.
Breath matches the surface area, superimposing along the body and crosses laterally, connecting galaxies to the earth.
The earth is where the sole of my foot touches the wooden floor while sitting leg over leg, with the intention to write in the flow of the wave.
The wave is apparent without changing its mystified flow.
The sound of the letter and its healing word naturally crosses the body of which I am deeply aware,
its bend to one side,
the tendency to hike the hip habitually.
The decision to use the less comfortable side
as the engine reverses the propeller to push forward the water, I read that when the RPM reduces, we rely on the natural friction of the water. The resonance travels from the steel decks straight up… through my shoe, vibrating my ankles, shins, and knees. The lowest frequencies match the resonant frequency of the torso, the chest mimics the felt tingly hollow of the tiny bubbly turbulence jumbling the inner ear, forcing the calves to micro-adjust to keep a sense of steadying.
I lift my head then and watch the people move in changing masses of groups, disappearing, forming lines, and repatterning their density.
The light on their faces matches their speech and the hum that the sanctuary walls allow to be permeated by. The color losing the garment and form turns to color just.. mingles with the light and changes to a whizz.
I stop writing and enjoy the sensation of all the rolling things becoming equanimous through my newly discovered body. Like a test of physicality. While I delay the subject of approaching infinitesimally to a sanctuary, I realize there is a possibility to go against gravity for rule-less buoyancy in simplicity and by ease, feeling the science of it with a smile, without the word for its law, discovered by nothing less than love.

The Rainbow colored Prophecy



I hold the sun in my palm
and make a turn

There are no stories
along this path
but You

​You
to breathe with
​Step by step
circling wide the earth

my gaze is soft
painting a horizon
​Steeping in by
the knowing of your word
dissolving place
for space

My skin shapes
anew
by dance

The shimmer of colors
bending sideways

vast and melodious

​Whirling,
whirling
without longing
Can you hear it?

no future, no past

Drawing a transparent pass
for myths to be

​I know you in the woods, the sky, the sea,
in the hills rolling to be a story

A pulse shapes a pearl
In a gentle touch of
The breath
Shared secretly
Hidden in the cosmic waves
of the shell beneath the sea

and I paint without edge

hiding you in the colors velvety
whence

​A sound awakes in the chest

clear, natural,
becoming a possibility

carried to a dimension
that fits

its pattern

by each distinct
step

communing with a presence
so familiar
of light

I pin the directions
one by one
into the sky

Lucid and unfading

once seen
For what it truly is

Holds a fragnance within

like a graden
Ever blossoming

I recognize
​The pink rose tree
From a dream

fresh and tall

The only threshold along the path
its fragrance, a song,
its stout thorns, a sign:
Do not give up!

​I hold the sun in my palm
as I turn, light and plain
I offer the sun to the sun
in the east
I do not think but trust
feeling you by my side

​The sun receives it
​A river made of the energy
of all directions flows along the spine

pours its rainbow colored prophecy :

“At a juncture
where hearts meet
The line will Infinitesimally be
complete”

Drawing with watercolor

In all color we celebrate

We celebrate you today
in all color

clear
kind
bounteous
and
beautiful

A natural makeup
along your alluring eye
made of Starlight

Radiates
Radiates

Skin
dark as spice
carries the zest
of all the minerals
in a whisper
painting
their quiet marvels
we call universe

Invincible
beyond the naming
of woman or man,
You are the sacred drop
where all dimensions meet
that bears them

As dolphins awaken oceans
we glimpse from space
their leap

a pulse of sudden joy
Echoes in the chest
Anchors the core

the rhythm –
revealing this earth

beats
breath by breath
wave by wave
all colors meld
into a tender pink
of dreaming

like a gloom about a bloom
not forgotten

Inciting
a wish
to word it

but language fails

What I think I can…
yet cannot
cannot catch it
like a déjà vu about a hue.

and somewhere
at the edge of seeing
my vision curves upward
touches the blue

effortless
unasked

and in that stillness,
I arrive
at an apex
of my spire

The air clears
I sit
replete
within
a dome of
a symphonic
tilt
and listen

Listen just
to the song of
You

Salutations to you,
O! goddess of all time
You is the quiet force
that holds oceans within

that pulls tides
to weave the
light of coherence
between earth and the sky

We
we are joy
like the moment
a flower meets the eye
we recognize plain
and align
with our cosmic inheritance

We are the singing
of a thousand names
spoken at once
and
we celebrate
celebrate you
Because to celebrate you
is to plunge into the glee
of the vista

we hear
Hear you in the wind
that whispers softly
Are not these
forget-me-nots
proof enough
that everything
everything
is already forgiven
in the wake
of the heart
of the sky

we celebrate
celebrate you whole
IN ALL COLOR

Notes: dreaming of a garland of all these colors and flowers ☺️🌈

Your hands over mine

I see I see your hands over mine
not separate but transparent
skin as if
sculpted by breath and shine
I see I see your hands holding  light
one with mine
carrying tides along to rhyme
songs of Love
shaping
the moon and sun

https://youtube.com/shorts/CEumnGYv7VM?is=ilIDyfAjrtgIQOpL

Lyrics that came to me in a bright sunlight and a moving meditation on an early ✨️

Ah, what a  Pantomime

My homemade 7.20 min video self spoken (so with caption added) about the coming of the spring, change of season, the transition and the apprehension coming with their magical transformation and mystical communications. Made from my walks and dreams .  The words are pasted below .

https://youtu.be/k-sW-IaOMRI?is=6YItCgoDA09wud6-

The Pantomime of the Trunk
And suddenly, I saw it!
It had a peculiar trunk.
I didn’t know why I looked at it;
Many trees have peculiar trunks,
but to me, this one resembled a creature.
A proverbial tale-creature hiding in a trunk,
A creature that I’m almost able to recognize;
I could not guess its name, but perfectly knew the page-corner of the book where I’d seen it first:
A drawing more real than other things
Softly penetrated the air,
enlivening a childhood memory
with the smell and the shine
of its freshly printed paper—

​The pages that I used to dissolve in…

​All of a sudden, though…
I saw a shadow stretch and
the ink heft from the page’s edge right before my eyes.
And stealthily,
I saw a scowling cloud coalesce in air.
It raged towards me exigently,
Discharging a rumbling noise
that sounded like: Cut!
“Cut the crap!
And Turn!
Turn that page now!”

​I could swear I heard it sound so
as the moldy grey patched up
and tempered mid-breath.
Abruptly, a gloom creeped in
to dim what seemed
to be bright.
​In a rolling growl,
the sky paled
and halted
all those roses,
dream-blue,
that were about to grow.

​”Rush!
Rush!”
…and stop beating around the bush! “

It slithered chillingly.
​Turning my head
towards a mundane…
Mechanically, mindlessly led
by footsteps
followed with
Pad, tap, pad —to submit to
The faceless compulsion
that had nowhere to go but: cut, cut, cut.
​So,
I made the postural attempt to rush, even my breath was ready to forget…
the inspiration of turning to a jubilant flit of wings was about to escape in a final expiration.

​But then, a Halt occurred!
…
And just like that!
​I changed my mind!
​Made that sharp,
Jubilant turn,
as if sweeping
for a plumb, blank clarity… without a hurt!

​A sharp circular turn to cut the “cut” instead!

​Matching the volume of the trunk to my ribcage,
Integrating dancingly.
​Because
I realized that it actually… is a movement within.

Not a creature, but like a creature;
The cloud,
The trunk’s nose
sticking out in a snapshot…
And yes, alive.
​A sign,
An epitome
of centers that unite.
A beingness
having its own time,
through a softness of listening to one another.

​An acknowledgment,
and the skill thereof to view in presence.
A life of its own
surfacing in an equally valid fashion.
Real and clear—
Merging all time here
which I could… hear.
Not say, but hear.
​To hear is to feel…

​I wanted to express my excitement, but then
There must be a style to that kind of saying,
which I didn’t know how.
Would it be a tale? A movie about…?
​Or could I really go through it,
Down to the roots of the tree?
A sanctuary? A healing journey?
Both… or all.
​They don’t need to comply with temporary rules
to be one or the other.
​I could feel and see—or perhaps I already was in the tree.

​And when I saw the fresh blossoms,
I knew it was a meadow.
A true home
Fitting to all dimensions instantly.

​Not new, but the one that has always been;
The one that never faded nor departed.
​A realization of being—

Synchronously, an inner dance rippled and
Matched to a view of the flutter of a petal
Hanging in space, twining unbelievably
From tree to tree,
Making a jolly appearance against gravity.

Would it be a micro-UFO… or a butterfly?
I could swear it didn’t move randomly.
As I approached microcosmically,
with my camera with a hope to catch
the thread that moved it so skillfully,
I saw it was a leaflet.
I saw a leaflet swinging to a rhythm of my wondering,
Looking like a butterfly.
A mischievous furl, invisible in the air,
Modulating its twirl as if to chime an angel’s bell.
Lingering,
lingering now in the song of a merle,
Playfully tuning my breath.
​Moved by its joy, carried by its laughter,
Facing the pine, a hammock I suddenly become.
Just the repose of listening.
And a sigh is what remains
In the bosom of the spring’s haze,

As in sleepy snores, a leaflet flutters,
drawn in a corner
of a children’s book,
yawningly even the winds mumble:
“Ah, what a pantomime!”

Pinch-off

Drawing with pencil and watercolor

​The tap held a secret
Another place,
Another kitchen,
Another living room,
A different era
hidden
in its metallic shine

Recalling a home with a garden,
without seeing its shape

An inborn dream
dissolving
into the vivid tones
to distill color in a last droplet

which seems to the eye;
“never
willing to come down”

A lifetime
so long as it would stay put

Preserving traces of memory,
Diluting their story impartially
to an essence

before they’d
meet the earth inside

Marking the end of a dome
at an opposite side

not meant to quench thirst
but to be seen as a probability

This is not just a droplet!
but a traveler
in space and time

A bearer
of its science

Not alienated by its observer

A warmth,
carrying
the magic of all places
paints its surface,
gives it a skin
in a
whisper

for the intended is
A healing touch

Splattering perhaps
to crown the land
with the jewels
of a thrilling trail

For the earth
a droplet
is real

​A boundless touch
of a boundless patch

​The tap looked almost unreal
In its function as a carrier

It was
as if made of the same material
Transparent
to the eye

When the crystal exuded,
Nobody saw the movement
of dripping

They knew gravity
was hiding in

Perhaps that is why
They too were
Pulled towards

A wonder to create
A wonder,

Like finding
an oasis within
that one could
Only wear
without conditions
to be able to tap in
…

Only then the
view could flow
and be felt

Joy of clarity
like air
as if hugging a cloud,
Smell like earth
as if rain,
And touch
as if the splash
Moment by moment

The unseen ripple to roll to
A tune
appearing along the
leaves Rustling

Known to the birds
In these silences
of their antiphonal singing

Hushes of a dawn-chorus
that brings the sun up
in a brim
and dips an orange tip
Eradiating the evening

Tranquil, yet with a flame still
to tirelessly play
hide and seek

A garden of abundance,
Sounding a sigh
where minds birth the moon in
a drop of stilness
as if a tear one cannot hide,
Drips to reveal
The knowing of the heart

Gravity turns, a silent dancer then
to exchange surfaces in a flight
and to hold whisper of the flow
along a circumference
As tension loses its grip,
The drop elegantly marks
The edges of its trip
A shade held in deep
The breath hushes
to animate the leap

A plash !
without rush

meets the earth
as if
A promise to keep
savoring
An embrace
where waters never sleep

True Blue

The heaviness felt
on the ribcage
once offered to the azure
releases its grip and rolls
through the soles of the feet

The ground receives it as warmth
to resurrect its ochres, it says,
Thinking of you
is yielding
compassionately

While I tune
into your sky,
I sigh, unveiling a vastness
of unexplored plains

At last,
a seasonless lightness in the heart,
in a flash of freshness

The birds know it too,
as they concertedly glide,
opening a purging line, bright –
epitome of the union
seen by the breaths within

And I wear it
with some kind of childish, gleeful mime
that incites along my forehead
a beam to teem the chest’s phoneme
melodiously
into a morning hymn

And the ribcage forgets then
whatsoever it has been weighed by,
becomes fluid like a bird
reclaiming the function
of its eloquent design

Thinking of you
is a dance invisible
that paints nebulous dreams
hidden in the morning mist,
to celebrate the dew,
freeing the ghosts
in a blooming hue
Sprinkling seeds of joy
I smile into the sky’s blue

Spatter

1.
I woke up with the
sound of rain, the tranquil pattering
on my windowpane is like a skin

as if to tell me
The songs of the tongues
that wed meaning
in the tones of light, they carry

My eyes still shut
I listen
Droplet by droplet
Peaceful
as if brewing slowly
An unknown melody
Aligned with the swelling of my chest
which brings color to me
and the whisper of a tree

A tree
that weaves the sky
so charming
Almost like a scene
set up to please
At a tea time or
… morning maybe
when I’m just awake
and can truly see

See the tree,
See the soul of the tree
and talk to the tree,
whisperingly
breath by breath
Softly ,
tenderly ,

And the tree knows me
For generations long
agelessly,

the tree,
the sky,
the roots

carry me
towards a sanctuary
that I’ve always known

Alone
Alive
in love

2.
A room in which I sleep
the curtain
As if the sails of a boat
Surfing   … by light

Light, gently
seeps … to remind
hide and seek

Flashes of gleam
tickle
My sleep

Playfully
but surely
a sign of clarity
Like fresh water

While you dream lucid,
you hear
the beat of serenity,

the warmth of truth
is an inspiration
objectless

Being its own story
…
and stories
….
like a tale of all stories
.

that rises us up spontaneously
like dance –
Being its own …

so light ,
colorless

like air – able to penetrate

and become the curly and straight lines of all shapes

3.
Oh no, I can’t help not dancing,
so maybe it’s my rib cage that turns and turns like space-making-hulahoops

Softening, all rigidity… rules, to
unique spinning architectures

“Wash you rain!
all the remains of ghostly traces before they dare to make an appearance “

Droplets beat
joyfully
on my pane,

telling me
Songs of simplicity
Enveloping plain

Calling me to pose
in a heart

Where they can …

Oh!
What a Splash!

as I turn and turn

Globular beads hang
against gravity

All, in slow motion

whirling
A gleeful skirt

Dancing ecstatically

spotting through the Whoosh
I see

calmly and
Unforgettingly

because now I can truly see

4.
Essence of Form
-before the appearance
of their names – and
of their learned function-
….
of their assigned labels
…
all mark the space to
accommodate my dance
as a transparent field

Like the sound-fluidified
sonic markers

that emit
temporary
Moldings
here and there
before and after
a halt

what we call
“Objects” are

made of breath ,

-Seeing of that –

Those that could be drawn
to articulate an unknown geometry

Those that are chosen
to be a gate

-the meeting place of the lovers-

The start and the end
where breath hushes

and those
that melt like
tales of unending rain

marking
the screen
to name a window

So much to see suddenly!

and love
the way colors are contained

as if
to paint shapes of my dance
by which they – the Holders of color -are born transparently

to melt their defined corners so long as a turn lasts and

Mingle with the shape of a droplet again and again
that dissolves -even- color -by humility

5.

A simplicity of being –
by being just

I see them as the abode of smell
these so called objects

Winding along
a line of their knowing
since I move as such
in great relish

We rise together up
and see the

drawings
of their temporal shapes

Animated by superimposing
. along the space
of my heart,

Breath by breath, I see sizeless

with the corner of my eye

I know they are made by my dance

A secret dance
Spiraling from
earth to sky
crossing laterally
to inform
my gaze


unified by its wholesome slice
paints
a snapshot of time
to oneness

Keeping a history of the microcosm wordlessly within

and
We know like that
all secrets
by love

and so that’s why
and that’s how
I continue unstopping
Even when you don’t see

like rain in London

to dance and dance

Jewels

made of
Constellations

of skies that sing
Within their macrocosm ,
the raga of ours

Reflected as a spark

As the last sputter of the flame
of the campfire waver

While we read
Tagore’s
Unending Love

And fall asleep
into the
Heart
of the jewel

A dream

Dazzles its brightest

Spangles

an amaranthine tale

and
Pours forth its Spatter

Basil and Grace

1.
She is born from the Sky
Holding all the secrets of the sky bearers
She is a flower made of changing color
Inciter of the winds
Freshness of the memories of the waters
She is the snapshot of all the twinkly in your eyes
A geometry enlivening stars
She is the enchanter of syzygies that
Rise the tides
and aligns the hearts
She is the lens that gravity falters
A flame burning in the darkness
Dancing the universes to her law
She!
Invisible
yet everywhere at once.

2.
Ah, the embrace
Ah, the beat
in the chest
Ba-dum Thwack!
Rat-a-ta-tat!
Air touches
the touch
makes music just
not to hustle
but softly rustle
and you Puzzle

3.
Don’t take her for granted though!

She can cuddle
the bungling wave
born from your
scanted desire

Razzle-Dazzle !
and
convert you to Basil

her sweet moppet

4.
You play for her
up until one day
You realize
You want to change
your shell

inspired by her luscious glow

The dangling
here and there
sounds like
the guru’s name in
her hair

blowing in the wind

You hear just
and feel

Feel
and hear

Maybe you could dance for her
you think
like Pinocchio
If you had wooden legs

or maybe you could mumble like an old man if you had a walrus mustache and a hat and sound like wisdom to keep her by your side 

But nope!
You found out
After living a long time
in her garden that
She remains
always the same  – as change

and you
You

A withering garden toy
slowly fading color

but one day … as it goes

You hear the hummingbird
because you can now

The flutter that
Whispers a secret for you

A secret that you can wear only
A secret that stills
all the fluctuations – At once!

Imagine! it says,
Just that

Imagine

Nothing more
Nothing less

Who am I?
You respond.

to be able to
Imagine

again

as if for
the first time

You feel and
dare for real

Fearless
Needless

Supported
by the elders
and supporting

A mirror
holds your face
Your face
A mirror

Clear
Clear
like the sound
Unstruck
in a beat

a Heartbeat

In the shape of
A crystal
so familiar but meant
to keep …. none

5.

Shushhhh !
…

because you can see
See now truly

and you paint through
Her hair in the wind
with your eyes
that can relax
in the spaces perceived
as a background
holding
your story complete
to
A song
of ‘you and I’

A myth to gift to
those generations to come

An invocation
whenever one would desire
in one breath of freedom
Unchanging within

Just as the waves
rise and fall

Just as the
heard is recognized
for what it is

the veil lifts

The termed gets
quantized and dissolved
In the view true
At one point
No time to pass
No place to last
Only
Only

Her name remains

Grace 

6.
She, she
In one gaze

From earth equalling sky

You hear
her in
All tongues
dances and rhymes

and then only
you know
You have known her
For the first
and
the last time
In a glance
that
She has patiently
waited for you to see

who you truly are
as
Light
nourished in the dark

Time collapse

with before into after into before

As if a joke
the resonance of a huge laughter
Remains
…

7.

Ah! – so loud! – that
It slips you out
of its cycle

Shoots you
towards the sky

Hits you—from blue to blue.

until you’d make your way through
to a true blue

Skylight

that could gift her
a rainbow garland

A resplendent corolla

which makes her dance
always
to the joy of you
as the wind in her hair

as the landscapes
Refreshing on her sides

as the whirl
and the embrace
that flourishes
flakes of flowers
in galactic skies

Photocollage with drawing