dragon fly

Taken by Lisa from the kayak

"See the light in the tiniest insect, and even in the invisible particle that forms that creature's leg. It's the same light that beats your heart and holds the universe in place -- so allow yourself to not just be in the awe of the insect but to be the insect."  Wayne Dyer 

Dragon Fly...

Having toast and coffee on the sun deck, I noticed this phosphorescent blue-green thread quivering suspended in air, two feet in  front of the rail. Watching four wings emerge,  it is a dragon fly.  I wonder, is it really?

As I watched the blur of gossamer wings, I am captivated by the insect's green iridescent, hovering beauty. Labels and naming freeze life into matter, into objects, into things. Maybe it isn't a dragon fly, an object, a label, a description, a life reduced to a definition.  Maybe it's something else. The longer I observe this hovering motion of color the faster we both seem to be dissolving, escaping solid matter -- no boundaries, no sides, no containment. 

Then it moves toward the rail. I ask in a quiet voice, hardly breathing, "How about it little dragon fly do you want to play?"  I wait, it moves through the rail, hovers in front of my legs. "Are you connecting? Are you hearing my caring? Are you feeling me out, too?" 

Breaking contact,  I move back to the deck table.  Glancing over my shoulder, the iridescent blue-green seemingly follows. I shift slightly back, again. Now it almost touches my T-shirt, pauses a few seconds and fly's back toward the lake. 

The power of seeking is in leaving the question.  Mine is, was this little insect making love, too?