Nomadic Findings

Across the borders She resided like air that follows lungs.
An ever present traveling companion.
Called by many languages.
In forms multitude she remained constant in appearances.
The tongues of time named her diversities.
They crowned Her head of Legions.
They adored Her naked or robed.
They explained on a multitude of parchments.
She is called Netzach and Creatress,
MATRKA, word and letters,
Spanda, wave and movement.
She is the Dark Mother, Empress and Queen.
She is lover, lifter, slaughterer and enslaver.
She is a sweet surrender, tender are Her chains.
She is nurturer and chastiser.
Fed by the fruit of the vine and welped by the swinging branches,
She cultivates.
Slaying the false reality donned,
The mask manufactured,
The small self created.
Granting boons and dressing in attributes.
Never taking away, but rising mundane delusions to new meaning.
Divinizing aspects and revealing the face of a heart.
Giving clear spectacles with new proportions.
She is Lillith slayer of the ego child.
She is Kali reconstructionist of the false perceptions and attachments.
She is Inanna, who carries one to the depths of the dark side of soul,
Naked and robbed of riches and protection, hung on a hook, left to die.
When lost in Her Kamaloka, personal dirty laundry is cycled through Her Universal Washing Machine.
As Saraswati She wises one up.
As Shekinah She copulates.
As Durga She empowers a weak heart.
As Kundalini She ignites.
She is delusion and liberation.
She is negative and positive aspects.
She is all the inbetweens.
She is a sweet seductress and a stern guide.
Sometimes veiled in darkness
Other times illuminated in dawn light streams.


All Rights Reserved (c) 2006


And.....

Nameless By Tzvi Freeman

High upon her precipice, the soul is nameless, for she has no form - she will be whatever she must be.

Peering below, beneath the clouds, she perceives a faint shimmering of her light in the deep, wet earth. There she finds form, and she calls it a name, and she is called when that name is called, for she says, "This is me."

But it is not her. It is only a faint glimmering of her light within the frame of a distant world.

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