Shamanic visions have been building temples

Up from the roots of nature

Like rapture

Spread across the Earth

From down the back

Of mountain’s spines

When aggravated listen and see

The way nature slides

Her hand over

Wounds

Open in avalanches

And lava flows

From her veins

To the surface

Exposing the truth within

The whispers she sends,

For we can never bear

The experience of her

Poetic performances

The whispers of which

Wipe out regions

In Revealing wisdom

Across the world

She knows no prejudice,

And her softest breath

Hits like heroin-laced hurricanes

Spreading up from Miami

On currents

flowing like blood

Money swaps hands

In Malaysia while Her body

Trembles in sympathy

Sending forth tsunami storms

Mozambique in cyclone winds

Sixteen already caught breathless

By their ability

To see her poetry

Through these simple breaths

Translate into wild fires

That threaten Australia

Where in other parts

Temperatures drop

Like the branches of gum trees

You see, Her breadth

Is limitless

It knows no boundaries

But maybe, just maybe,

We’ve been hearing the wrong message

Maybe, it’s time we get back in rhythm

With the meter of Her voice

Before it breaks

Like mountain’s spines

And addictions

And winds

And waves

And people’s faith

Needs to return to the roots

Of Her nature

Spread like words of poetry

Over the masses

That people Her body

A temple

Building shamanic visions.