Kali. Kali Ma.
What do you have to teach me, oh symbolic archetype?
You are the destroyer of illusion. With failing arms and scythe in hand, you smoothly sever the heads of ego. Man and his inability to rise up to his powerful potential enrages you. With tongue flayed and the whites of your eyes and teeth on display, you firmly remind the withering souls that this planet, this Earth, this realm is but a playground for the gods and goddesses.
With a growl at the back of your throat and a fiery breath emanating from the deep pit of your bowels, you are sex personified. Your pugnacious lips bite at flesh. Your all knowing eyes pierce the divine. Your voluptuous curves hint, charm, and seduce. Your gravely tongue massages the roof of your mouth. Your dis-shelved hair drapes your black head as you throw it back and laugh.
You are opaque as night because, in the deep, dark wet soil, in the bottomless pits of the oceans, and in the whirling, black holes, life and creation springs forth. You stand firmly, perched on top of your counterbalance, the supernatural light of Lord Shiva - your man, your lover, your duality.
Soon, however, the dance shall begin. And, once again, revolving man and revolving woman will take their place in the lit heavens above and resume their eternal flow, as they return to their revolving posts around that great fire in the sky.
