MYCORRHIZA
after The Prophet
of the pouring of cups;
fill one another’s’
but do not drink from the same source.
let love be a noisy, wild, sea
between the shores of your souls
connecting two boundless continents
flowing to the same ocean
and dancing away again
on the notion of space; leave spaces,
in your togetherness,
gaps for richness to grow
lone riches, planted only as personal
Soul Food.
Hearts can be gifted
sparkly bow-wrapped, with all of the embellishments,
loaned for a while
though, lungs, voices, souls must remain open.
on becoming One; make temples of your bodies
filling ferociously in union
shaking when met, with both,
power and grace.
softness and strength coinciding,
with the knowledge that this is a game, a cosmic dance,
made for much playfulness
on truthful expression;
let laughter fill the lungs of your connection
an expanding vessel of effervescent vibrancy
on reciprocity; give flowers and take with grace
arrange them as you wish, pouring sweet sugars into their waters of growth,
though, when they die, do not be expectant of new life immediately,
do the same of your seeds
if planting blooming gardens; sow the seeds of creativity together
birth much before birthing little ones
when traveling; know that the caves of the hearts are overflowing with interesting cavities, pumping with ripeness of inspiration,
so when one travels.. unravels.. ripens.. without the other, explore the realm of the heart that you have been admitted unlimited access to
taste one another once sweetening,
for this, harvesting season must pass, rains must pass, becoming ripe is a ritualistic rite, a byproduct of the comfort of aloneness with oneself,
of manifesting in the physical earthly manners, dream.. dream.. dream
as the Love becomes a portal for a whole dreamscape
a land of your own design, for your mutual surrendering becomes the Key
float in the subconscious dreamscapes.. the ethereal .. unseen as you can. enter forgotten, forbidden lands
always coming home to one another,
to politely bicker,
about who will do yesterday’s dishes, as you make tonight’s dinner. both wishing to serve the other, and do all you can to lay the alive flames of your devotion at the altar of their lotus feet.
in becoming silent; this is where the understanding blossoms. observe from afar without rose-tinted glasses, see what is to be seen, how to carry buckets of light to empty onto the dark becomings that the soul longs for, in order to transmute, in order to bring death upon itself
to be reborn in orgasmic-holding of regular gratitudes
on becoming pleasure; slow down to honor each second of the temple you are collectively building
each golden brick can be laid with overflowing passionate joy
of the pleasure of appreciation for actions shared.
of the seasons;
embrace them all like the changing inner tides
not only the soft tenderness, but the wildfires that tear down all branches of illusions
be thankful for that which can only be seen with four, felt with four, held by four,
though remember you have two of everything.
come back to this harmonious self balanced union within.
when coming together;
join hands before walking slowly.. kinder.. with each step on the intertwining path
though don’t be surprised when the paths unravel, before weaving into merged horizons again,
as roots can only spread downwards into shadows
but sprouts need to jump into their own unique light, for the tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow.
