Stripped naked of my humanity,
everything I am,
torn apart by sudden kundalini.
Left pure and simple:
pure consciousness.
Just wearing a room,
while looking at toes.
Stripped naked of my humanity,
impersonal pure consciousness,
suddenly revealed:
my personal self unpeeled,
like a bubble expanded and burst.
Stripped naked of my humanity,
as Kundalini so suddenly rises,
unsheathed of the husk of identity:
pure consciousness –
impersonal and disinterested,
wears the world like a necklace,
then,
suddenly dropped back,
into the person – so awkward,
like tight jeans, to put back on,
quaint constructs of individual self,
and human notions of proportion and scale.
The memory of bliss streaming,
in human veins, and I
trying to recall my name,
as I readjust to gravity, mass, and sensation,
and the to-do list of the day.