Sitting Lotus, butterfly, waiting for God to come. Shaman dancing, rattle, drum. Waves of nausea, body numb. Images of all phenomena gliding by. I emerge into the Sky, sitting, watching, only this.

When I speaks, I does so with this accent on I. Thought to be a stranger, kicking this word down the road, the lost ask where I comes from? I warns them,
to know, they must first let go of their obsession with geography. Having no place to stand, I passes by, overhead.

Jacob’s Ladder,
the World Tree,
the World Mountain,
the Axis Mundi,
live and wait
in the Garden of the Mind,
in the Heart of a Christ,
in androgyny,
in ecstasy….