SHINKIRO

Hungry tangerine waves evaporate through jewelled branches.

Murmurs of wildflowers in the footprint of the white lotus.

The nest threads the alchemy, wings throbbing with golden and copper fires.

Hawks of eyes on my back as I lay down my thought

like the armour of peace. The world is at peace. The rising sun sways the night harvest.

Forgive. Remember. I go the distance. I let go of distance. I am time, beaded in nostrils of luscious hills. Loud whispers in drums of tender buds. I am colour, I am shape in the lava of space. Blood vessels in the immortal key, deep in the throat of this dragon.

Floating flights of flavoured flames, lingering on the lips of my skin,
for it’s through this living blanket of feeling that I hold space for the souls

who breathe the mount of carved chroma and ticking eternity.
No trigonometry left to entertain the mind, the last haiku of the unborn lieu,
sacred temple of the hindmost run to whereabouts and doubts.

Breathless, forceless, supple winds stand. Now,

stand in quiet certainty that fortitude is as soft

as the rock in the storm and as loyal

as the river on the lost path. Delta on roots of the inner universe,

like the snowglobe under the foam of the Ocean,

sweet nectar of the Rowan tree. Hear the skin calling the true name i

n the verses of Fire and Air, as my words dance

in lapis lazuli

crowning the omen of the dawn.

Poem: Shinkiro, by Ludovica Mazzucato

Music: Tus Pies (Your Feet), by Nahko and the Medicine People