Mandala

Image

Our Father…

I intone it

into the stillest night

as a mantra,

encoded with

my silent

sacrosanct desires,

nestled in the wombs

of rounded vowels

I am foetal/ prostrated/

inept

in the mystery of

illumined tongues, merely

offering my infant mandala –

an uncultivated splash of infantile art

to merge me into that sacred Name

which may not be known

(image:

http://elizapiro.com.au/nine-bird-mandala/)

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