In Orbit

I skateboard down the silver spirals that embroid your hair as pearls might adorn a Pompeii princess,

and take in the vista of a world through your eyes:

The sands of Petra and it's ancient stones
embrace winter figures like a warm womb;

Golden skins and bronzed, wrapped in sophia white, hide rich hearts

Hearts not of terracotta but living olive wood;

Hearts that divulge their secrets in the silence of a brew of spiced tea,

Its smoke veiling the desert sunset as a last act of resistance against the night

Our solidarity roars in the lungs of Rudra
while his luminary manifestation stands in the gap like Moses over a sea of crimson

Let our oppressors tremble at the thought of Bhava, as we laugh around Agni and play with tapas till dawn

You are an icon in this grand cathedral,
a dyed glass that has drawn me in

I peer into your eyes and see the tips of bashful celestial wings sweeping past

Though I've made darshana at The Door,
I happily circumbulate your sacred betyl

A delight t'would be
to kiss your stardusted cornerstone

Namaste

[Rudra/Bhava (in Arabia, Wadd/Hadad) is the terrifying manifestation of Shiva (in Arabia, Suen/Sin), who wears the moon in his hair. An icon is a window into heaven. Tapas is a fire of passion that doesn't burn one physically. Darshana is "viewing" that transforms one's consciousness. Betyl is a "house of god". Namaste is the greeting said to the divine being inside another human soul.]