Mandalas
You are the still point
At the center—
Though you are not still
Though you snow
From east to west and
The invisible moon
Glows through your grainy
White
Lighting the way like an old
Lantern
You are the still point
At the center—
The old pine growing up
From between the rocks
Alone at the edge
Of the hill
A leader without
A tribe
You are the still point
At the center—
You stand with arms
Outstretched
You are the four
Directions
You are the sundial
You are the Stonehenge
Calendar
The ritual
The living
The dead
You are the still point
At the center—
I travel your orbit
Like the moon
I travel with you
I always face you
My dark side
Unknown
You are the vanishing point—
I walk towards you
You move
You are the vanishing point—
Everywhere I look
You vanish
You are the still point
At the center—
On cold mornings
I can touch your
Body
I can hold it close
Wear it
Like a living
Amulet
A living stone
You are the vanishing point—
You go down
With the sun
Like a horse
I must lie
On the earth
To feel your warmth
You are the still point
At the center—
Though you are not still
Though you force
Your breath
From my mouth
Though your heart beats
A strange drum
In my chest
