Dancing across her instrument beloved weaves a poem,
a song of triumph treasure found,
in this her movements express boundless cheer,
happiness achieved,
and i follow after her,
with motions fit to any happenstance–
my role is certainty,
my object secure.
Around me she dances,
my arms thrown wide,
and i am the one pole,
a column cosmic synapse–
her radiations infinite,
contained outward from my finite vantage.
Beloved has the advantage,
in me remain all my innocence,
inside all my karma,
and she may pluck from me any ego thing,
my vulnerable heart all bare:
naked do we dance,
naked do i stand,
naked is the spiral–
eternal naked dance.
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