The golden child is in my heart today, touching me beyond my understanding. It is this holy seed of touch that moves my heart to sing. The perception has become the meditation; the unseen interplay of space and form; the burning line of fusion, where names dissolve and definitions are consumed by fire and light. This womb of immaculate co-existence magics all. Being and non-being dance the shadow play of life as planets echo themselves through the still lakes of night. All converges at the inner point of silence; the sacred edge of creation fills the world and everything that has ever come to be is reaffirmed by fire and light.
(Photo and poem by Clinock).