A Golden Cherub

Jolt, a spark of recognition, and I feel so alive.

This is a falling through the sky, moonlit cloudless skies, in an endless breath.

I seek something familiar, but keep finding many new pieces.

Excitement courses through my veins, a life force of happiness, contentment.

I falter, but find myself quickly righted; back in the course.

This smell of fresh laundry, a cut summer grass, an ocean mist on your face, these are new sensations.

So familiar, but completely foreign concepts, like a new born babe.

What is this visage, but of one so heavenly. In part that experience abounds, it is still a divine façade to treasure.

And I find this falling without breath.

This golden cherub, can it be? Truly an angel in my eye, or is that the glitter shine of sunshine?

This pink and white growing forth from the mucky pond below.

Now the mists of spring have passed. No need to dab my silk sleeves, for the mind proves to be stronger in this blissful light.

I can sit atop the blossom, cherry or otherwise.

This’ll whisper into the midnight hour, a sunset, then moonrise again. A starry rain clears the night sky.

This’ll be the diamonds of our mind.

No monkey here, a silent open playground, setting the stage for a higher frequency, a powerful vibration.

The mudras have been cast.

The die is now in stone, and calling forth to the heavens: “oh Hark, let these angels dance, and dance!”

Where it that simple, such a symbol needed.

Now I reach out and grasp into the void, finding warmth and electricity instead of the dark familiar.