Poetry

Poem: Magical Yogis

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If you take a hike from the mountaintop

and follow the spiraling mist downhill

you’ll come across an ancient watering hole

where the magical yogis appear.

They live among the tall bulbous mushrooms

that surround the clear pristine waters.

Sun glistening off their ancient faces,

prism light bouncing off flowers and stones.

This is the home of the magical yogis

where they can be seen doing slow vinyasa,

gracefully moving bodies, hearts to the sky

bellies undulating, firing up in pranayama.

Slender acrobatic female yogis,

wiry white-bearded yogis

doing backbends and cartwheels

Magical yogis are the ghosts of yogis past

coming out when the wistful spirit moves them,

magical, mystical Kundalini yogis

showing bystanders their cosmic elasticity

and vanishing before their eyes.

©️mft

Freelance writer, poet, yogi and photographer from Santa Barbara, California. I write and take pictures about a variety of topics, from my early childhood in Philadelphia, to my years as a family therapist, and finally to my soul-searching years in California. The things that move me may have a humorous or serious content or both. Either way, I hope my poetry, pictures and stories resonate with you.

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