when the earth spins
mandalas grow
webbed with our intentions
dancing spirits around a flame
burning, the core
(inside our names)
… and the moon watches over us
carefully and grins
as our stories begin
then die, and recycle again …
its gleaming eye bearing witness of
our chants –
blessed with dreams while we dance –
and the circles flow,
mandalas grow:
illuminating life within
we have yet to know.