Sunday, July 13, 2014

Caravanserai of Life.......

# 1

Cold shivers bask the skin, playing with their own harmonies, moving back and forth, as the goosebumps manifest and subside with the subtleties and showmanship, of a magician.

The wind moves through the trees like a silent warrior creating music with each leaf and every branch.

The ironies are not lost on those that are intrinsically linked, but apart, as the force of invisibility creates the reminder of a core essence, that is.......lost.

Clouds merge themselves on the jet stream, growing from the wisps and figments of imagination, to the rolling mass that lowers itself to the surface, blocking the sun and relaying it's images, across a wind swept sky.

Twirling,twisting and shape shifting, until mesmerised.

Lying in a field of mint, surrounded with the aroma, wafting on a whim, as the bees gently touch down on the mauve heads of pollen, with the beat of  staccato wings, reaching deep inside and releasing all.

Walking the invisible dusty roads at night, the aroma of roasted coffee beans entices the senses, as the strains of the violin break the silence of reverie.

A horse snorts and whinnies, as the spectacle of an open hearth fire pulsates, through the darkness and consciousness of the night.

A silhouette of a man shadow, dancing around the fire, projects fleeting images, of youth and old age, through  each  cycle.

The flames grow in stature, swaying from side to side, as the warrior strikes at the heart of the shadows, creating sparks that float up to the gods , like a sacrificial offering, signifying the ebb and flow of each moment of time, caught and surrendered.

The caravanserai of images play themselves out, unafraid and fearless, across a vista of opportunities, held in the crucible of the essence, of each moment, and of life....... itself.

Circular improvisations share their glory with a tail wind of  good fortune, unhesitatingly bemused, with the lack of fear, as the treadmill of perceptions widens it's scope.

Instigating the expanding spiral, maneuvering beyond the acceptance of the known,  and receiving, and inhaling, a vestige of the unknown.

Challenged changelings skim the tears of sorrow.

Energised mustering's pass the time of day, cooled in the shadow of a granite overhang, soothed with the trickle  of mountain water, and absorbed, in the moment of being.

# 2

The mouths of blank faces open and close with the sprouting words, which proliferate themselves at whim, into the orchids of the night, reveling and grovelling,  in the saw dust of indulgence.

Polished teak reflects the cracked floorboards with their  knotty orifices, infinitely sacrificial in their use.

Beams of sunlight pour through the slatted doors of alternatives, bathed in the possibilities of unusual perspectives and laden with the pregnant probabilities, of renewal.

Driven by the thirst of a warrior , seeking the elusive, coached by the repetitive  voice of the elders, inspired  by the challenge of being, and aided, with the eagle's sight, the puma's stealth, the wolf's cunning,  and the humility and fragility of a hummingbird.

Burning embers are swept up in dream time and light up, the playful shadows,  awash  with  the invisibility of connections,  seeped in the blood of sisterhood and brotherhood.

Laughter raises itself in cadence, as it echos through the heart and the canyons, of the mind.  

The tears of joy cascade through a willingness and intention of rejuvenation, as the charcoal smudging's fall and explode into the dust.  

Flowing swathes of white linen brace themselves across the dunes, welcoming the warrior, with  the breeze of adulation, as the drum beats, echo across the loneliness of the journey.

The blank faces ululate, in their own caverns of self absorption, only remembered, in the moment of focus.   

Fortified synapses relax their hold, as the form transmutes from solid to gas, spreading itself in the glory of all.

Cross referencing the previously ignored.

Masquerades and baubles drop into the brazier of opportunity, as the bodies of spent intention, sealed in a previous incarnation, move and stir, beginning the dance of truth, celebrating their own transition, as the sloughed of skins, drop into the vortex of another illusion.

The loins of envy and greed are churned into the misguided paths, slowly emulsified and mixed into the vat of sloughed off skins.

Memories ameliorate and fixate themselves in the sublime state of grace and gratitude.

The soft spoken words echo and resonate from the dream time of unconsciousness, to the real time, of each passing moment.

Flying over the edifices of progress and caught in the spotlight of our underlying calling, back to the root and essence of life.

Revisiting the well worn symbols of a past, intrinsically linked to a continuous stream of images, flashing their own symbols in the present, while the white washed walls of the future beckon in their own muted tones.

The caravanserai continues unabated,  in the light of truth and wholeness.

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