The Bluestone Review 2025

The Bluestone Review

Like roots to soil, it wove me whole, A pulse of oceans, ancient, deep, Blood to breath, the first control, The rhythm given, mine to keep. The vertebrae, like bark, protect the core, Silent shields in the curve of existence, Flesh, like leaves, turning towards more, Catching the light in a quiet persistence.

The heart pumps like sap through the vessels, Pulsing life through each fiber, each vein, The lungs, like leaves, breathing in the rustle, Inhaling the world’s truth, exhaling the world’s pain.

Breath flows like tides within the womb, Like waves upon the mother’s shore, The body drinks, the body blooms, A cosmic rhythm, evermore. The twist in the spine, the curve in the tree, A mirror of life in motion, unfolding, It bends with the wisdom of what will be, As it dances with fate, gently molding. Each nerve a root reaching into the dark, Sensing, responding, lighting it’s way, And like a seed sown in soil to embark, My body evolves with each passing day. The body’s dance, the wind’s gentle blow, Two opposing forces, bound to please. For every turn, a purpose, a place, As trees spiral skyward in slow ascent, Twisting not in chaos, in grace, I, too, learn to rise from where I’ve bent. In the Tao, all is aligned in the flow, Yin and Yang, the tension and ease,

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