Distant God Meditation
Around the world in seven days,
from eastern shores to western.
Going everywhere and nowhere...
I travel without moving.
I am the cyber stalker,
the hemisphere walker.
Futuristic shell toe Adidas clogs
cradle my ashy brown feet
as I roam dystopian streets that bustle with citizens
who are blessed with curly black hair
and cocoa brown skin in hues quite similar to my own.
Among them here I feel at home,
rememberin’ the links between they and I
severed like an umbilical
a millennium ago.
Sony Boodo Khan™ headphones press firmly
‘pon my ears
as 16-beat drum tracks
spring wildly from the tabla (drum),
poundin’ India’s ancient rhythms into ear canals
with a familiar cadence
that echoes my own jungle bunny heartbeat.
The technetronic boom of 808 bass lines
rumbles in rows of sonic thunder,
echoing from Calcutta to Chicago,
from Bombay to the Bronx.
Words with no apparent meaning,
a hindi script graffiti,
sprayed upon temple walls that have long ago decayed.
I learn the secrets here conveyed in homage
to that distant god Ganesh:
The destroyer of obstacles,
the protector of Devi,
the holder of the club and the discus,
the conch shell
and the lotus blossom.
I worship at this temple for a time.
Baptized in the scent of Nag Champa incense,
I cast seven glances inward,
gazing into my heart
with a third eye’s golden sight.
In this moment I am without anxiety,
discomfort or doubt.
I know not hunger, anger or fear.
I am without pride, prudence or prejudice–
without a sense of time or even self.
I am simply...