Follow (Bhakti Flute) Poem by Eric Cockrell

i follow...
the sound of the flute,
the footpath of the sparrow,
walking on air
to infinity's arms.
the rustle of the skirt,
bare feet on the floor.
the hum of the pot,
simmering on the stove.
the cry of the spider's web,
falling ever so slowly...
from its home in the corner,
safe from the broom.
the lick of the dog's tongue,
both raw and gentle.
the snail trail of the bead
of sweat on your neck.
the pole shift of your hair,
from brown to grey.
the quake of your lips,
pulling me in.
the wetness of darkness,
sucked down the drain...
into emptiness that swallows,
breaking down the last note!