Kundalini rises
like a full moon in heat.

(shaktipat!)

I thought she was sent 
from the abyss.
I felt the heat of hell 
and all of the bliss.

 She spoke
in tongues unimaginable.

Her venom induces 
alchemical fever;
purges my world view.
Everything I knew
is flushed out like sweat,
like a toxin.

None of it was true.

I wrestled with her 
like a fallen angel,
twisting, wriggling,
possessed, 
in some shamanic trance,
compelled to snake dance.

I could not let go.

Then she shows me a vision
of a figure raging with flames
at the stake of a sacred place.
It would not decay
like the burning bush
that Moses saw.

I knew that it was me.

She said, 
"Let go. There's no turning back."

So I shed 
my self-importance,
like snakes shed skin...

At an ego barbecue
what else is a lost soul to do?

 The music stopped.
She shot out of my head,
and headed for the stars,
leaving only who we are.

I was dead.

And we thank her.

© 1997 by David Bozzi