focused meditation, past life experience.
|My dying day was one on hunt,
the skins I wore, well tanned.
I'm sure I hunted birds on high,
feel eagles far away
Sometime ago, I got real still
and quieted my mind.
I cast around for images
latched on to one profound.
I saw the sky through broken limbs
while lying on my back
I heard a cry that mocked my try,
a feeding eagle's call
From this remove, I know my thoughts
were drawn to those I left.
There was a girl I eyed as mine,
I'd ask when I showed proof,
that I had passed from boy to man,
earned feather in my hair.
The tallest tree the land supports,
is home to what I need.
I climbed so high to poke my eye
o'er aerie's latest floor.
The nest bowl's twice what I am tall
across from here to there
No place to hide to bide my time,
tail feathers to provide.
A heated hormone raging prod
misplaced my climbing hand
My body bounced and broke on limbs,
was painless at the end.
I saw the high noon light just fade
as I escaped this husk.
What you read is what I saw
in focused meditation
I leave to you, believe or no
Richard Higley© Sept 2011