Let Us Dance, Naked. {poetry}
Let the mad onlookers point and stare, for they wish they were us,
encumbered and enlightened, by this strange yet glorious existence,
of human, spirit soul-speaking, ultimate.
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The End… Of The Beginning.
And when I had expelled all of my prejudices, my disdain and my failures, I then sat up and heaved forth every needle pinch to skin and each bleed of my heart. When I opened my mouth, with head held back, as that of a woman, crazed, I wailed and then let out my breath and fell back, destroyed.
Waking Up To Consciousness.
I am mesmerized by the sun, the way she dances and dapples, illuminating leaves with paprika and turmeric. The veil is with me always, where I am able to move my hand, lucid and glass-like, lifting silken skirts of varied states of existence.
108 Yoga Images from 2012: Through the Lens and from the Soul of Robert Sturman.
I believe that if Michelangelo had known Yoga, the streets of Rome would be filled with marble sculptures celebrating the poetry of 'asana' -- a poetry that longs to touch the divine and say 'Thank you for this life'.