by Francesca Mariano (participant at SAND17, Italy)
Whirling, whirling
Reality is blurry
As I remain the centre
Of this moving stillness.
Graceful wave,
Of chaotic order –
Meeting at the core
Of what is,
as-it-is.
Whirling, whirling
We are spinning,
As the planets do –
Aligned without question
Surrendered without fear
To what is –
as-it-is.
And while the wind runs through my skin,
I wonder…
If the gods are spinning their garments in the skies,
Whirling, whirling –
They enjoy when we cease to walk and talk,
And stretch our bodies
Into the divine dance,
Hidden behind
The limited mind,
Allowing what is
To be perfect
As-it-is.
Whirling, whirling
The fire of change
The bridge to the unseen,
Manifested beauty through the seen.
A scene of such magnificence
That I burst into tears
Of fear revealing love
Of diffidence becoming trust.
Undressing illusions,
Tasting the unspoken
Being one with what is
as-it-is.
