By Gregory Beylerian
Cinematic Sculptor: Ari Macht
I begin to surrender myself.
Letting go of thought and time,
sifting into a higher mind.
It is a flow supreme, so divine
from where we come, as liquid wine.
Mesmerized and transformed,
we fly deeper into the night,
wandering, drifting free, lucid, alive.
The longing has settled,
it is now, we have arrived.
Once again, one, together, defined.
The beauty of life, the creation of time.
From a moment when all was dark until now, there is light.
And the brush sifts through streams and rivers,
a life force flowering so fine.
These are pulses of the divine,
sweet whispers to the soul sublime.
We arise from flowers like seeds,
of sapphires and silk or withering tides.
Moon beams alive, from days gone by.
Mother of the night, sweet luster of light.
From the father of day, did the sun invigorate
and bring motion into the sky.
The way of the dance is the way of the brush,
as it flows with liquid rides.
Along paths, meridians, veins of the divine.
From only a mind that has surrendered
and gathered itself free from the incline
so as not to judge, but rather observe,
what is true and alive.
It is our origins that I speak,
from where we come.
To know thy name so as to glide
into the unknown with caress and confide.
To fill the moon lit sky
with memories of life and brilliant light.
For love came to us
by right of birth.
It was an orgasm, an organism
the implosion, explosion
the big bang, a great flash
from which one divine became two
and two created four.
And sweetly, ever so sweetly,
I see my maternal nature.
It is within me oh father
because I am of you
and of one, we are.