A man stands
like a Corinthian column.
Ancient and eternal.
He is naked
before a full length mirror,
a mirror haloed in light.
He is breathing.
He is being his own breath.
His gaze is sharp and clear,
an arrow aimed at infinity
as if it were a single point of light.
He is looking at himself, looking
at his body, at himself studying it.
Every inch is inked
in tattoos, with images
of men, faces of men
lined, written over with questions,
with stories, well-worn stories.
Each face is a different portrait
made by a different artist.
As the wounds of this man
awaken, as if from a dream,
to the healer within him,
his breath finds its deeper rhythm.
He vibrates, and he sees
that each illustration is now
transmuting into flower,
a lotus blossom blossoming.
No two sets of petals are the same.
Each has its own shape, size and color.
Each is a whirling, swirling wheel,
a pulsing vortex of light.
An arrangement of exquisite intricacies,
emanations and incarnations
rooting and ascending
at once.
Every male face, every tattoo
gorgeously arrayed on this body,
is constellating on and in it.
This man is a living cosmos,
an epic and elegant astronomy.
A star map made flesh.
This man stands not as a Viking
admiring his own armor
but as a Guardian
of muted energies
that he stewards into song.
Into anthems.
He is a space maker.
A peace maker.
A love maker.
He has so much to say.
So much to give.
He is humming and buzzing with
potential, purpose and passion.
He knows it is time -
time to manifest, to deliver
the cargo he carries.
He knows this like
he knows his own heart beat,
the sound of his own voice,
the sound of water, wind and flame.
He sees – and maybe for the first time –
in the mirror, his beauty,
his masculinity looking back at him.
It beholds him, with tears in its eyes.
Breathing still,
his breath on fire,
breath-taken,
he steps forward
and walks through the glass,
the door into his divinity
with gratitude and grace
as the newly formed wings on his back.
And the world
gasps with joy.
It has been waiting for him.
It has been missing him.
It sighs, because,
he has finally and fully
arrived.
