colossal green stem is broken, like the spine of a feather
as it changes from white to brown near the top

it’s hard to imagine the Stone People walking with me here up on the ridge
but they do, the low notes steadying the balance
it’s hard to imagine the Medicine Buddhas walking with me here up on the ridge but they do, the pink one presses close
Supreme Glory Free from Sorrow pulsing in my heart, like a galactal orb

he walks slowly but without pause, up this steep hill
this young man, with his walking sticks and long auburn hair in ringlets
he steps unconcerned through the mud in his blue and green sneakers
Blood of the Mother flowing ecstatically after a heavy rain

everything is tinged with my longing for a different man
though I follow the way of Yeshua the Master and retrieve the leaking energies
I feel the bliss and the shimmer hovering
and two of the middle toes on the right foot go numb

Angels of the Merkabah help me empty out
now that I know how to say their name
empty out empty out what is finished, what is confused
so there’s nothing left but the grids of light with my Heart at the Center
even as I receive the Divine Love Song of Compassion of another man
in his deep voice that penetrates
I remember
remembering the Shimmer in lifetimes past
always in a forest, or at the ocean
not able to bear the look, the smell, the taste for all the separation present
grateful now for the cultivation and practice
which allow me to soak in the nourishment of this Grace

I offer the pink stone for Supreme Glory Free from Sorrow,
I nestle it in a fallen log, deep in this dark womb

it is so much swifter going down the hill, than up
wherever there is a Buddha, there is a Dakini