In that house
four walls built Neither you, nor me,
with our linked limbs neither man, nor woman
live you and I neither shiva, nor shakthi
It is the Arthanareeswarar
of our togetherness, It being, one being
our house. our being
together.
The earth rumbles
as the tectonic plates
of our pelvic floor
moves, but the house
sways and stays put
this house is an
organic life form
Snake like it rises
shaking wet rain drops
off its hair
splitting, hair raising
tingling, shiver like
light sliver like, it arises
our being. Above the ocean swells
of our undulating bellies
over the mountain tops of
our breasts erupting
sweet alkaline lava
through the gorges of
that sacred hollow space
beneath our adam's apples
Past the roof of the mouth
rising high like
pitched up tents of
this inter-galactic firmaments
Rising through the subterranean corridors
rising through worm-holes
linking past and present
in the now of the mind-space tunnels
Rising like dew-drops of the mid-brain glaciers
on lotus pads
of the ocean floor In this house
of the crown of our heads. four walls built
of our linked limbs
This house live you and I
is no ordinary house, this
temple of the world's congregation
this temple of miracles
of life this
Emersonian reality.
