Desert Dreams

I walked through the veil of waking life and into a realm of limitless realities, spelling out of heart and subconscious mind. A small shanti landed heavy and free in the center of an expansive piece of desert soil. Trees, at a distance away – visible to my naked eye, but further out than I am accustomed on account of the conditions of my heart.

One moving truck. Windows that only close on the top. A flexible clear glass that gapes and seals as directed by the winds. Warm, warm heat. Moving from room to room they bend and warp in the definitions of my imagination, of my reality.

It is never really a quiet place, constant migration of vagrants and children wanting to use the washroom, in need of water. The furniture building itself, the space defining itself around the needs of my consciousness, of my evolution.

My boss, riding his bike in protective conscious circles.

My crew-leader, leaning his ears in close to witness a shift he knows but does not yet recognize.

Walking into celebration, a town 4 miles away burning to the ground. Red dressed fire dancers flitting around their water source. Mists of chakra colours pouring from the heavens. Mystics scantly clad, their mental freedom expressed in a quality of nudity that numbs the mind out of the physical. She wraps herself around me, the children flocking to witness these tricks of scarves and bangles. Wives of men, laying jealousy down at her feet. Like blankets of wanting.

“take me back to your home, take me there, bathe and feed me.”

She renders me physically still and consciously aware of her transgressions, fears and depth – the bloods that run through her, challenging her, defining her. The bathtub full of cold water and my father asleep naked in front of the tv. She casts her spell upon my home, upon my world.

In emergence I walk the line between the Piscean and the Aquarius.