In this body made of thought
Made of moving, intersecting vertices
Made of whorls of cross connecting vortexes
There is a place unutterably still
A furry animal may curl and rest
So soft, so trusting, so at home
While outside, body moves
As mistress of the winds
Interchanging energetic waves
This body made of thought is hard to size
It sinks into the earth, it kisses skies
It moves with and creates the winds that rise
It’s everything reflected in its eyes
While on the inside, concentrated quiet
A weightless place, where every forming impulse
floats
before its launch in integrated motion
and after it’s received back to its home
It is a new anatomy
What book has shown us this?
And yet we saw it
And we felt it
And we named it what it is
And now that we have named it
We’ll see it more and more
Dynamic body made of thought
And its deep, quiet, potent core.
© Wendy Mulhern
March 4, 2012