O Mother,
You are the bridge
between the inner and the outer.
A dancing brush of my heart
flying
between the branches of the tree
into the blue sky -
to emerge out of the blue paint
into the needles, the bark,
the cracks in the stone.
Swirling through space
on the periphery of my awareness, in the corner of my eye,
into the misty haze of inner vision.
There you dwell
within the blank canvas of my soul
waiting to reveal Yourself
I am feeling the stirrings of your womb
ready to give birth to the Unmanifest
through images and dreams
becoming light
dancing on the tip of my brush.
- A.T.