Moving Through, Winding Around

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The air in cycles and circles

pushes through my soft tissues,

howls and hisses in my bones,

flows in rivulets and torrents

into my blood.

 

Like salmon spawned at river source

I flow to the sea and back

in a dance that is reincarnation.

A movement that finds

life and death in its essence.

Transformation.

Coming into form.

 

Speak my name

over salty waters

over moonbeams

under stars spread

into the night sky.

 

There is a movement

of the One.

The soul that speaks

in whispers and in song.

The susurration of the river.

The miracle of murmuration

 

Sometimes in flight

I forget myself.

When I catch myself,

I find myself surprised

in the kiss of life.