In the Seventh Vault of the Seventh Heaven
I connect the dots and see the whole picture –
an accumulative masterpiece,
a symphony of spirit.
A Hopi prophecy speaks of when
the birds fall out of the skies
and the animals slowly die.
It speaks of now.
I see the patterns repatterning –
a shift is occurring.
The Hopi foretell of the Warriors
of the Rainbow; they come from
every creed, every colour, every civilization.
They speak of you and me.
Mother Earth will be green, once more.
I see the continual composition
of the future, the now, the then –
mutable mannequins to perception –
nothing is concrete.
In the Seventh Vault of the Seventh Heaven,
I embody gratitude. Submerging myself
in the energetic magnitude –
I am expansive,
I see I am the she-wolf. The wild is in me.
It runs through my veins and my
arteries; in my capillaries it sleeps.
A lullaby straight from the third eye;
intuition and instinct.
In my descent I struggle,
holding onto the words, grasping onto the feelings.
The now is now a distance. I am separating.
Gaia waits for me at the bottom –
my matriarchal home. She brings
me to her breast and I feel comfort,
she kisses my soul. She whispers –
"child, the moment is now
and the now is the moment –
be at peace."