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Morning Dance

In the land of false flowers, there is a mirror.
Stop gaping there.

Turns your eyes in,
where Gaze has heat running under the skin,
and marbles of pulses roll
along the canals between the eyeballs and toes.

Sensation is the first way of Knowing who we are.
This Dance is not what you think.
This Dance is what you don’t think.

We are incarnated, blood everywhere,
in and out.

Don’t turn from these flowers,
these carnations.
On Earth, hearts forever pray such blooms,
gratitude for what’s Real.

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    One Comment
    1. ann #

      I am not in a phase of writing where I am eloquent or poetic, though, through the years I have had these phases and imagine I will again. Many of your writings and the comments on this blog I can relate to, though the words didn’t come from my pen they seem to match my heart. This one especially touched me, perhaps because of the title. Yesterday morning I had a “breakthrough practice”…after days and days of practices where I felt a struggle to focus and be connected, finally I felt the connection to my Self easier and stronger. Maybe I was practicing at the same time as you, or nearly. I can relate also to the command to stop gazing on the false flowers (not spend my focus on what is not truly alive and beautiful) , to first know myself through sensation (how true for me that my body connects me to my Self), and to pray such blooms, grateful for what is real. These moments are among the most important in my life and sustain me. thank you for this.

      January 12, 2009

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