Ab Initio

I begin a voyage of discovery
of words plucked from obscurity
to summon the forces of
Lorca's Duende
as my voice echoes
from the heights of human
achievement to the valleys
of immovable mountains
as winds carve this
sculpture:
Birth of Venus.

I am here today not to write
poetry, but live as the

fragile ink on papyrus roll,
flaking gold leaflets
peeling from the
lips of Pharaohs,
treasure laden stories
weaved in to cowebs of
trapped spiders.

Born in each blood cell,
flowing inside arteries nourish
the soil of this fertile Nile
as the iron rusts of red
harvest moon.  This is
my soul, seeping deeper in
the ground, until I am dug up
by another Sisyphus.

I was brought to Olympus,
as dust on Hermes sandals,
to rest as glitter on the
on purple silk garment,
Swaying with a belly dancer whose
breasts now turned to stone.

From Angkor Wat to Shangri-la 
follow the road to Nirvana,
I find remnants of dreams
fragmented memories
when I stare in the eyes
of the present,
born a second time.

A Guanyin Perspective