And there She Is,
Paradox Herself.
Creating and destroying since forever

All notions of the many and the one.

Call Her by her many names
Invoke Her essence
She is alive in plant, river and stone.
Offer to Her of first fruits, sensuous scents, of pleasure and pain.

Beloved friend of the houseless and hungry, it is said that it is She who possesses the sick.

In this here moment
Beyond the binary of sick and well,
Attune to consciousness dancing cells
Pulsing vibrating to the rhythm of No time.
This is now.
And fear can be lay to rest and all is forgiven.
All separation baptized in the bloody waters of Her primordial flame.

Vows upon vows
I long to offer to Thee,
If only to taste the sweet nectar of seeing and being seen. This is the honey that heals empires.

It has long been time to throw myself into the fire of rigorous self-honesty

Where the complacency and vanity
May be alchemized into a tender sanity and an irreparably broken living heart.

I have been reckless, forgetful and comfortable.
Caught up in self-created drama, I have turned away from suffering and abandoned my kin.
It has long been time to throw myself into the fire
(That is, if She would have me).

Is it too late to ask for forgiveness?
I will risk it being so, in the name of the rose and in the name of silence and laughter. I am on my knees, Beloved,
Begging to be accountable to the force of sacred reciprocity
In the name of the children yet to come.

What is the name again, for the path of all paths and of no path at all?

In the top left chamber of my heart, I sit at the feet of all religions, chanting Divine names, blessing all truth-bearing lineages and tenders of the sacred spark.
Next door, in the top right side chamber, my sisters and I dance circles ecstatically around the golden calf, rejecting doctrine and receiving revelation at the foot of the breasted mountain.

Praise be to the mystics, walking casually through the streets, lifting veils- drunk on communion.

  • written Sept. 2018, Berkeley, CA

Yael Schonzeit