Number Fifty Two ©

Sa and Atee, their bodies fell into hills of dust and were blown away by motion. Love animated the motion. An invisible hug embraced the sun.

Secluded places beside rivers and wildflowers, refreshments for athletes, legs for the decrepit, warmth for the forgotten, color for the blind, a laugh for the intellectual and the miserable, tea for the silent, air and water for the wise.

A play at the source. costumes wearing masks and wigs. The audience was dressed too. Jokes dropped from the sky and filled the water bowls.

Dust moved fast. Even when the day was dark and the bushes were noisy. The cracks in the earth moved slowly. Lava was fighting for a breath of fresh air.

The keys were all stuck in their holes. The locks shouldn't have been made at all. Locks destroyed the capacity for trust.

Atee was a refuge.

Sa could feel a fragrance hovering around his trails. As lonely followers traced his path, they too felt the fragrance. They spread it wherever they went. Their balloons were inflated with it, their quills penned with it, their tubs were full of, their clothes were cleaned with and their homes were supported by it.

The fragrance was present around Atee. Trees grew and fishes were born of it. The birds flew in circles overhead, the prehistoric mosquitoes transferred it body to body and dragonflies defended their mountains and castles with it.

It inculcated strength. It brought them closer to themselves. It opened their windows and went outside.

After a million years, dreams would replace reality. Sleeping worlds would dream new worlds to be dreamt. Only a single seed would bear the past and future.

Belly up, that's how beaches meditated.
Fingertips to the sky, that's how mountains meditated.
Upside down, valleys.
Whirling in circles, tornadoes and hurricanes.
On and on, moment to moment, locking hands with life, never wavering, like a stream.
In and out of dreamed reality, Sa and Atee.