I don’t want to sit and meditate.
You are my favorite path to God.
It begins with low growls in your throat
reverberating like ohm, body set to humming.
You lay me down,
pull out totems,
coax complex rhythms,
shamanic magic in your slow fingers.
we bloom beyond our boiling bodies,
illusion rising steamlike,
What the source is,
Where heaven lies,
Who we are,
are not answered, but discovered,
clumsy human layers erased.
Do not ask me to sit in a quiet room,
legs crossed with Buddha-hands.
Shake me to sacred wavelengths!
Peace is not silent.