C: Poetry week 4 – I am the needle stitching

I am the needle stitching

The point of my body pulls
The thread of energy behind me as my legs pump
They go up and down
Round and round
Synchronized with the beat
Of my lungs – air becoming sound.
As my heart slips from the seat
And back into the drumbeat of my breath
The stone walls, earth halls that follow
And contain my ascent
Breathe with my whole body.
Tumbling the indigo of dreams
Of death and rebirth back into the world
Of this dimension, though I see and smell and
Taste the same to me as I wander
And sway through both simultaneously
In the heart of the mountain of my heart
And on the peak, unbalanced, precarious
As a monarch just unfurling its wet,
Orange, new wings, moments before flying
For the first time.

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