Empty Hands, Force, And Energy...
Fascinated by the symbol,
Decades in a Yin and Yang balancing act.
It was by the river when I was nineteen,
Of all places in my Southern Wisconsin hometown,
Silver-nested black and white circle,
Swirling in my subconscious,
Perched on a pinky.
In high school I dreamed of being Iron Fist,
Don't most of us?
That dragon's breath in a mountain cave,
Mad skills in the village,
The mystical glow of chi.
Now,
I dream of moving well when I'm eighty,
Maybe beyond,
So I dance in a strip-mall mountain village,
There's even a hill below it,
And it's nested away in the unwilds of California,
Some mystery dimension between vineyards and desert.
Power games are old news,
Worthless,
But will and skill,
Knowing the difference between energy and force,
I'm learning to dance the spirit winds,
A dimension of union for body and mind,
Where every breath is a silent spell,
And existence is a love letter to the Multiverse.
I am a lowly grasshopper,
Praying to fly.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 10-26-2025