It is ancient alchemy that created you--the fire we burns to remind ourselves.

My hand glides along your contours. We pretend that solid things are only that. But even the soft wind that kisses your cheek has a say in what the rocks say; even the trickle of water falling gently in your toes gets to decide the shape of the world. Call it erosion or the art of sculpture, these elements have something to say. And the fire churns out new earth from the earth that has always been, and the wind draws the heat away from the deep center of Earth's desire, into the center of our own. We pretend our hearts have coalesced into unchangeable shapes, but the fire always burns, and churns out new territory, and the breeze and the steam always have something to say about it.

In the moon light, dance, and let the shapes beneath you guide your movement. Place you clay hand firmly on the stone and find where it fits. The world offers itself to your imagination, to your body, to your truth. Trip and grip and wedge yourself into it, because the earth has messages that we can read, and we can write.


Me,
Fiery Furnace, Moab
9/30/12