They've taken the kundalini route,
Serpent circling the past, the nothing,
That turns to present everything as they wind,
Speak light language to every animal
And interdimensional they pass.
It is ancient Hawaiian, with hula hands
For the residual fire that is anger still native
At the Haole that must be washed in love.
It is like that with all things of love, a ritual.
They turn around at the dragon where the mother
Gives birth from the chaos of the residual blue galactic eye
To arrive at the stone gates, the ruins of the Lemurian portal,
Find heart-shaped coral to offer the guardian warriors
Still locked in black tiki stone on the shores, as coal,
The residue of fire that remembers wars and honor
And says be extra reverent at my family quietly sleeping
In the Buddhist landfill graves, of the trash.
The water is black until they arrive
And Niihau turns to cloud as the sun ball douses
In the new electric blue Arcturian tide
And the tan lines of waves the no time crabs grid align
Turn black as the fire. They add cream to guava, cream to java
In white Adirondack chairs, not even knowing how much magic
They alchemized when they lifted their own tears away
From Waimea for a rainbow, to the island no one knows.
There's no word for the constellations they create out of sky.
