When The Little Strings Have Multiplied.
Attached to the crown, a fine woven yarn in many colors
tendered and pulled until it glows with the light of the universe.
I follow it, leading me with emotions and the consciousness of the day and the night.
My eyes are closed yet still I see the strength in the slightest thread of purple.
from my working mind— in the quest for balance— I feel the draw along this line, 
Encouraging me to recognize the truth as I feel it, all it is able to be.
Along the blue rope of a new understanding, I hear your whispers and I speak without restraint.
Spinning around and around the braid of our expressions as they tangle into new thoughts
and become a stronger, safer place— a bargaining ground for our secrets to free us.
Silken strands of green and pink pull me forward for a close study of my heart.
Each strand carries hope to nurture, ever, what we share, what we keep.
I rub this tender chest to stir the heat, the effect of the pulsing blood.
Yellow worsted runs in its hard shell through my hands, and into the pit of my stomach.
I can bring myself to look in the mirror.  What we focus on expands here,
trying to break everything down and turn into something we will forever draw on.  
The strings of a guitar restrung in orange, plucked from the line to my core.
Lashing out at the world, where patience meets passion, where violence meets obsession.
All our basic needs cared for by each other’s creativity and respect.
A red velvet ribbon thins and twists into my womanhood, as I settle into the deep poses.
I’m connected with the primal force of intimacy on the grounds of achieving great bliss.
It is a long stretch— but movement, stillness, and love— all come together and make whole.