Soaring, the feathered and the unfeathered.

Soaring, I have been soaring, I touch my toe to the ground, gently push, and off I fly.


Opening a book at random today I found writing about Rumi. It recalled almost exactly my dreams about my body, the open windows, and the flesh which is also rubies. So how did I know this? Where had it come from? The poem must have been inside me already, or is an archetypal poem perhaps. I am full of fire still, in love, seeing your face before my eyes as I walk, as we pass each other unable to speak; as I write, as I sleep.

I have already had the experience of the ruby flesh, the opening, the parting of the robes. I have been prepared. My dream life has taught me. So what is my next step? How do I explore further? How do I make known the whispers, the night visions, the visiting birds and unfeathered creatures who have befriended me?