Pondering upon the master spots

-a particular armchair

a rickety seat in the corner

that pile of cushions near the window

that patch where sunbeams dawdle

a casual way-side stone to perch on, gate to lean on, bank to prop on -

Inspiration’s sanctuaries that

like a cat, circling in on its inviolate safe place

are exactly where alignment and balance are poised precisely

seemingly by fluke or luck

by chance, come upon.

Rare and treasured thrones for the Oracle

hook-up points, tapping in to the Earth’s own core;

energy’s vortices whirling up and up

every sacred wheel ignited and set to spin

so any part un-synchronous

can settle and sort, mend warped geometries

re-vamp directions, intentions.

So still I sit

alight, alive, connected!

Who could see or would recognize

in such silence and non-motion

-ageless and sapient as the roving hills

suspended, lucent in the distances

yet rooted in rock

and hung betwixt bowls of immortal fire;

what fool, in this place of power

would judge it nothing but nothing

just time off, an opt-out vacancy

when it is the high-octane fuelling silo

for rockets that soar to the rims of our dreams

venturing to the perilous worlds beyond

…..all from this godly old chair!

By Siam Siam