Upon My Cushion

Like tea leaves upon upon the ground, I decipher the clouds
which clap and thunder,
bleeding silver freshets into a thousand lakes.
With my third eye I vie for supremacy as my
duality and non-dual duel
at the base of my spine
(and gateway to the divine)
upon my cushion.
One:
I breath in the blackness of the primordial night
fingering luminosity with tendrils of caustic
consciousness(not there yet).
TWO:
I exhale a whirlwind,expelling the cares of the day
THREE:
the realms beyond the sun’s golden province collapse,
space and time undulating, folding upon itself until it
and ‘me’ become I.
I become the pregnant void as my awareness is pulled from
beneath me like a rug. I Am, I Am, I Am…
~Michael Ezell

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