I carve cathedrals
with the sweep of my arms
I turn whirlwinds of change
I center and ground
deep bend to the earth
recenter and move
scooping sorrow like birds
each motion rebalancing somehow
earth and sky
self and divine
sacred love and sacred growth
temple dancer's work
spinning the world into balance
exhausted heap I fall
satisfied
The earth has grown old
with its burden of care
but in truth it always is young
The heart of the jewel
burns lustrous and fair,
and its soul full of music breaks the air
When the song of angels is sung.