I let the wildflowers paint my eyes,
And anoint my face with moss and river water.
I know there are things happening around me, inside me, always,
Whether invisible or seen.
The universe has given us a sing a along to do together,
And I spread my fingers apart to hold loose my humility,
Letting it go as I open my palms in a stream of water,
And the water reads each wrinkle and line of my fingertips.
The river, the rocks, the otter, the strings of algae all know that I am here, that I am finally claiming my place.
My service is to be a conduit. A live wire.
A string of energy that runs from the deepest chasm to the highest star.
So that the earth may speak to itself through me.
So that the earth may speak to the sky.
Have you ever felt divine fingers pulling your skin apart to feel what is inside?
Have you ever felt the stroke of resonating strings covering against your spine like the piercing note of a violin?
I have felt the sand and stone orgasm when the rainfall splash against it in autumn.
I have heard it moan as it soaks up each drop of wetness.