Veins

Trace the lines of Her face,
veins of blood and spirit,
silver and roots,
deep within and upon the surface.
Each one a reflection as I sense my own
dips and valleys, 
mountains and hills, 
marked by time,
distended or sunken.
Age has brought Her vividly apparent and 
like a blind woman my fingertips follow Her story, 
shadows of Braille guiding me down each path of exploration. 
Feel Her roots traveling the earth, 
winding along and being diverted or pushing through, 
gnarly and rough or smooth as the green switch of divination 
that leads inward springing up fine hairs that sense every nuance, 
every pocket of air, 
every mote of dust or beam of light 
that gleams through the breaks in the full canopy of leaves overhead.

skyroots

Her veins giving life and experiencing decay 
as we transform the past into rebirth, 
rising tall and strong in Self.
An energy trail that calls to each of us, 
inviting like the bubbling springs, 
the tendrils of vines are drawn to twine around 
seeking Her Source of love and fulfillment. 
Brightness shines through the veins 
illuminating the Present 
and palms tingle with Her beauty, 
stretching out, opening, flowering. 
Patterns are created and create
lines on the surface 
that share a story of courage or defeat, 
tales of fear and love.
A deep vertical line clearly depicts 
the effects of anger and disregard for the sacred Beingness 
that one tries to change or use, 
deep as the grand canyon, 
yet it can be filled with the flowing rivers of love and healing, 
the cool rich nourishment softening and smoothing, 
allowing heat to fall into a simmer, 
a gentle glow of acceptance, 
even becoming an embrace of love pure and simple, 
true to Unity. 
As the veins flow, 
tracing the lines we step between 
faded patches of grass too frail to survive 
or pause in awe of the verdant moss 
plush and vibrant within Her dark and cool tapestry 
woven many times with threads that become stronger, 
not weaker, 
with weathering and wisdom. 
A line leads up to the entrances 
... enter into trance ... 
which one is calling now? 
Do I step into the forest 
or onto the beach 
or raise my arms for the hawk to swoop in and 
carry me far away to the unknown 
beyond the little valley of shimmering ores I've mined for years, 
growing yet safe, 
having set up my own timbers of support 
within the shiny cool mine where 
treasures lay waiting for all who see their potential. 
But what of those gems not yet unearthed, 
the rich veins criss-crossed by ancient roots 
that prickle and engender courage in those who take up the call.
Where from here? 

Follow the lines, 

allow Her graceful wrinkles of wisdom 

to lead the way ever deeper, 

farther yet closer ... to center ... to Self.