7 Gardens To Tend To

 

 

 (NOTE: I started writing this in Morocco and finished it here in Portugal. It's interesting (to me anyway)) to see how my tone switches between countries.)

 

7 Gardens To Tend To

 

(Muladhara)

 

Firmly rooted, my root chakra

What carries me through this long strange trip

Of life

Nurtured on nectar,

I tend to My Garden

I am rewarded with a bountiful grounding

 

(Svadhisthana)

 

My sacral chakra, a hot mess of tangled vines

Born and raised on a steady diet

Of sensuality

Of sexuality

 

On a feeding schedule of desire tended

By stardust

By sunburst

By moonlight

 

A fine line of symmetry and overindulgence, this secret garden

Visited with urgent frequency

Fed to gluttony

 

For I cannot control all the beautiful weeds

That wish to plant themselves

Amongst my velvety vines

I push them out at my whim

Starve them until they wither

And die

 

Craving this garden to flourish

During moonlit walks

In the Bewitching Hour

When all my white flowers release their nocturnal essences

Disperse as they are taken by the wind          (Stevie Nicks reference)

 

A continuation of chakras, penned in Portugal:

 

(Manipura Chakra)

 

My solar plexus, a fiery landscape

Seeks coolness to pacify temperament

To fuel personal power

 

To digest

the vastness of the ocean

I swallow the horizon

To digest

the expanse of the mountains

the Serra do Carvalho collapse into my belly

transmuting the elements

I am becoming the alchemist of all my desires

 

(Anahata)

 

Sanctuary emerging

Rising from ashes of transformation

Chest expanding from a swallowed horizon

Emerging to unconditional love

Pillars of emotional strength

From the weight of collapsed mountains

 

Receiving, not consuming

Abundance of heart

As vast as the ocean

As anchoring as the mountains

 

(Vishuddha)

 

I ready myself to speak to the world

A saudade of expression birthing

Truths of my long strange odyssey emerging from my mouth

Every word a blue azulejo

Forms a mosaic

My story of existence

 

I learn to sing my own fado

Unapologetically

Someone, anyone, no one chooses to listen

My speech directed to the ocean, to the mountains, to the sun

Especially to the moon

During the Bewitching Hour

That is privy to my desires

 

My throat is parched

For this chakra is still wild

Untethered

Pieces of the mosaic yet to be discovered to completeness

 

(Ajna)

 

Just as the Farol da Barra searches

Searching for completeness requires inner wisdom

The blueprint of the long strange odyssey,

Etched into my forehead, wisdom

 

I am my own cartographer that I seek

I map the terrain of my soul

Every horizon swallowed

Every mountain collapsed

I am the lighthouse

 

(Sahasrara)

 

Have I reached the apex?

No

I, cartographer, will step off the edge of the vellum

Map burning

Seeking out the light-ness

All will be released into nothingness

 

The lighthouse will shine

Silent sounds of the roar of the ocean

Silent sounds of the static of the mountains

Sovereign

 

Seven gardens will dissipate into the vast unknown