Resonant Passage

Topaz tower hovers like a mirage on some prehistoric horizon.

Its arms outstretched in sleeves of sequined grace.

Water rolls down and births a melody of sounds.

Water only sings when it plays against gravity.

Markings dark and lasered as if yesterday’s petroglyphs.

Strange, they map the trail of my own callings

as personal as the tattoos on my skin. I

Sense some pilgrimage is about to begin.

Vapor floats, unites with clouds then reimagines self as rain

to flow down MountainsToSpringsThenStreamsAnd

finally melds with the Sea. Whole.

Home is a place of remembering

before we burst forth and begin again.

In our own cycling ways, we are drawn by the light of our innermost mind

where dreams are forged in the stillness of our core and

rise like stars over our cotton, crumpled beds.

Light–She urges,

drawing the waking, walking upward

until we’re one near-breathless chorus joining in the same golden refrain.

Ascent is an arduous devotion.

There at the peak of almost impossible belief, twin paths touch, meet,

a face comes into view. A mirror to all my exquisiteness–

my strivings and my historical mess. Yes,

clothed in different eyes, different skin, and enwraps the most harmonious galaxy

within. We beam, like a family of overarching stars, we beam

as we embrace in these softly knowing arms

and chime so mellifluously:

I am no other than you

I am no other, thank you.