Shining threads

Shining threads

Tuesday, 25 October 2011

The manifesto of the goddess

Her beauty shines in all she does - from the tender hand of comfort to the fierce strike to quell enemies.

The majesty of her divinity made manifest in the play of humanity. Not one, never one - she only responds to the peacock fan of the many.

A moving rainbow which loves the journey because she is the journey. She loves the sequence since she is every letter in the story - she is every note in the score. Each face is a different chime of her glorious song of becoming.

From the feet of the goddess - the soil which absorbs death and sprouts new life - to the crown of her jeweled extravagance - beyond dualities - transcending suffering, tragedy, pleasure and laughter - yet revelling in abundance.

She is not the solo star of the sun but a glittering necklace of stellar radiance spread through the sky. A scattered mosaic with room to breathe.

The charge of her energy circulates through the system, endlessly transforming bodies of experimentation - dancing, metamorphosising, vibrating.

She is the field which contains many flowers, many blades of grass, many many.

In her flesh we inscribe the stories of our lives - like wax she holds the impressions of our intentions yet paradoxically remains beyond any of the pressures of humanity.

She is diversity, the plural play of people perpetuating the poetry of performance and the process of procreation, pregnancy and perspiring birth to wondrous new formulas of possibility.

Sublime is her nature - unnameable - though men may try in their unquenchable vanity.

The only resolution is to be struck by her overwhelming presence - awe-ful, endless, ravishing. A cycle of infinity which delivers either madness or illumination. A spiraling, shape-shifting, phantasmogoria of playful inventiveness. Only those who can face dazzling beauty will survive the test.

She is beyond gender. Beyond the petty framed creations of artisans and crafted letters of poets. Beyond splits of sacred and profane. Her look is like lightning, which flashes where it wills with the power of wild electricity - the devastating gesture of raw expression.

The secret - the great open secret is that she is within - present in the eyes of every being, embedded in the nervous system of all, aching to connect. Aching to burst forth.

She demands engagement - not a monkish learning, nor a wry detachment, but a thunderous cry of affirmation - Yes! Yes! Now! Now I embrace. Now I jump in.

Once the jump is made, hubristic personifications of the goddess dissolve and we become.

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