To Lie in the Lap of a Goddess

Blanketed in astral cloudlets
of airy frost
alive in wonder
between sky and earth
sun and death
my body spasms—

trembling, shaking—
the cavity within which
the truest self
tumbles
in a rich mud
made of holy mirth.

With mouth agape
the sacrament is received
and Her blessed tongue
presses against mine.

She sucks the venom
from this vacuum of space
between dreams
and a surrender state.

My heart prostrates
in gratitude
inhaling the oxygen
out of every
single
molecule
of being alive

inserting the transparent beauty
of these vast lifetimes
into each
waking
moment
of the here and now.

Wrapped in brilliance
this experience crackles
with sensuality
sibilance and splendor
in a vessel where
the blood memory
of illumined ancestors
pushes a profound
somatic temperature;

a psychic fever dream
which bathes the perception in
explosive
kaleidoscopic
JOY
awakening the spine
to its inert voltage.

This place eats fear
and replenishes the body
with nutrients of the Atman.

To the governing gods
of that other reality
slithering like snakes
and uncloaking themselves
at the threshold
I ask:
Is this a metamorphosis?
Into what?
And to what end?

What is this emblem
of a future being
which you herald
as the arrival of a child
with a core constructed of bliss
solar in its intensity?

He is the one who wishes
to play amongst stars
in a nursery built
with the golden bricks
of endless glee.

Lit by a silver slip
behind the darkness
aglow through midnight fog
the answers are as yet
slow to be revealed.

Perhaps it is just
the dance of Brahman
the play and display of consciousness —
not the soul’s destination
but rather
a process to be engaged with.

As life gyrates and spins
along the axis of its journey
to lie in the lap of a Goddess
is to be called to love
that most overused word
yet also
the essential component
in the antidote
to the poisonous predictability
of human experience
a deep dose of remember
in us
within us
that which we already are.