Edges

I catwalk fragile edges of myself,

drinking my vastness past these cliffs.

I lap a saucer of clairvoyant air,

my sensual tides

flexing contented paws.

(No need to pounce now

on the mouse of the past.)

I feel the wind from timeless depths

making the future’s whiskers thrill.

_____________________________

Dance the Spiral’s windy edges.

Wake and sleep on lonely ledges.

Only there we find our center:

every breath a door to enter.

______________________________

The growing lip of the singing conch,

consciousness evolving:

it is the Goddess who projects me

onto that itchy, dynamic leading edge.

____________________________________________

I am building a sand castle

of Goddess love. 

And if the sea, if She

erases it to smooth sand,

the joy will remain: vision of Home.

__________________________________________

Soul the circle finds Her center

by Her endless edge defined.

Soul the whole defies to enter

those who fail to trace,

embrace in grace,

this ring around the rose.

© Tamara Rasmussen 2018