Two are naked.
One is wearing a short flowing robe.
The long slender fingers peeking out of the robe play the flute.
Her warm breath blows through the wooden tube.
Fingers dance about the holes.
The music pushes any sorrows away.
The river is living and speaks its knowledge.
The rushing waters slow its current so one could listen.
The trees climb high, searching for the blue sky.
The trees too protect the river bed.
Perhaps the ritual began when the flute sang its songs.
The river exchanges energy between their fingers and thighs.
The flowers hidden between their thighs are ready to shine.
The Shaman emerges from the rolling pebbles.
All hear those Mother Earth ancient stories.
Their skin awakes to the warm wind.
Their skin rises and drops with each breath of a breeze.
The trees are straight and proud to be part of the scene.
The minds are void like Buddhist Nunsí.
They hold hands, building a circle in the living water.
Their dance makes the magic in their circle stronger.
The Shaman stories make their toes smile and laugh.
The petal in their womb wants to bloom.
They visualize together with one clear crisp image.
The magical womb within the circle opens this vision.
The womb opens inside the circle.
They float far deep into the magical circle womb.
The circle induces a birth of sensuality.
Their flowers are blossoming.
Their blossoming flowers are with full living color.
They smile with appreciation, smelling each other flowers.
The trees bend backward and forward,
Acknowledging their appreciation.
The wind slows its breathing and tells them to sleep.
Their skin no longer feels a breath.
The womb in the magical circle swallows them
And all the magic within.
Illustration by Zoe Alowan, from the collection of Salvatore Marici.
If the artist would rather this image wasn't used on this site, please let us know and we'll lose it asap, if not sooner. With very heavy hearts!