12-13-15 by Dean Solon

the back story is...in the early sunday morning, i am dreaming---
i am with a community, am speaking in the community:  "how do i live?
                                                                                                                     how do i sit?
                                                                                                                     how do i move?"
the words seem to be meaningful to the others, and to me.
awaking from the dreaming, am chanting inside:  how do i live?
                                                                                                     how do i sit?
                                                                                                     how do i move?
at 4 a.m., i am writing...

i spoke my despair.
i shared my despair.
by expressing, i walk the path,
walk through the door,
as always i have done,
crying and laughing.
how do i live?
as spirit, as body, as mystery,
as receiver and as transmitter,
as witness,
as companion,
lying on the killing floor,
born again
and again
                                           and again

how do i sit?
as wandering jew,
as one whose name is bliss,
as one whose bliss is God.
i sit in the darkness,
touching the earth, touching the sky,
radiant, luminous,
surrendering

how do i move?
how do i rise from the killing floor?
washed ashore,
am crawling on the sand,
pathetic
                               and                                as phoenix
rising
as survivor,
as spiritwalker, as shapeshifter,
as shaman-self.

how do i live...
how do i sit...
how do i move?
blown open
with no direction home
whereabouts known