A shell,
lay exposed,
on the sandy chest of the earth. My finger caresses the smooth spiral gently rising its’ curve to the apex, the centre of sensitivity.
Rain, forming rivulets, flows down the sand toward the sea, cleansing, nourishing the earth
as the veins and arteries flow to cleanse and nourish my flesh.
The retreating wave draws me into its’ wetness.
The froth slides through my thighs rhythmically
surging, surging,
pausing,
allowing the sensations on the sensitive skin of my support to spread throughout my body and transcend my spine.
The physical remains of once living vibrations of the sea present themselves,
exposed,
unable to be revived by the lungs beneath where they rest, embraced by the golden warmth
for their sacrifice,
for their contribution to conscious knowledge of
Divine patterning and perfection.
The remnants of a giant cuttlefish,
a chalky Yoni of the ocean,
lay as a reminder of my feminine essence.
A shells’ fanning ridges,
firm rays reach outward,
a sentinel for the softness nurtured within.
Translucent, tessellated armour writhes over wrinkling skin trying to fulfil its’ role although in the sea it swims no more.
Julie Stephenson
Magenta air filled sails,
stranded,
surrender their physical form to patterned scampering discs claws tugging
retreating down into smooth angular shafts engineered by innate knowledge.
Knowledge felt.
Knowledge now hidden.
Only glimpses of this knowledge able to be seen. Do we need to press our cheek on to the sand to see? Do we need to understand?
Why do we seek to know?
I feel through the earth’s chest its’ beat, on my cheek.
My own heart.
The tide retreats,
allowing the creative hands of the wind to sculpt living temples with the dry sand which celebrates its’ freedom
from moistures’ restraining grip.
The sand frees itself again.
Each moment a place of prayer. Each place a time for loving.
I breathe the salt,
feel the soothing vibration of the ocean embracing and caressing the sandy chest of the earth.
The shell’s spiral whirls my consciousness within. My breath permeates my memory.
To recall
to feel creation
harmony of tone
perfect balance
my heart
my pulse
peace in the pause
energy in the beat
unity of the dance
my heart
my love
The perfection of Divine rhythm
by Julie Stephenson
