Inyan

Inyan

 

In the caring grasp

Of my gentle fingers

Rests an old forgotten friend

A lovely pitch black obsidian stone

Taken from the living breathing earth

The sacred ground of our ancestors

I listen quietly, patiently

As the rock begins to speak

Whispering natural laws, wisdom, truth

With the cracked aged voice of an elder

Its energy pulsating, reverberating, permeating

I discover consciousness in the echoes

Of magnificent snow capped mountains

Below the surface of salmon filled streams

In the colors of rainbow waterfall canyons and mists

Amid the blinding choking dust of an avalanche

Flowing in vermillion molten lava that devours cities

Seeking Inyan

Amid rocks, pebbles, anthills, crevices and cliffs

Discovering you

In the distorted remnants of flaming asteroids, planets

And the sparkling vapor of beautiful perseid showers