Monday, January 17, 2011

When the Moon Stares Back

The air is thin. The early morning aches with clarity. The almost full moon illuminates the dream-white, snow covered world. I stare, unblinking out the kitchen window. The tracks that I made earlier vanish into the hilly woods that lead to the valley where real Christmas trees will never see an axe.

Green is black. Gray is lavender. Black is blacker. White is sharp, harsh and unforgiving.

Why does the world sleep at such times? I witness and celebrate the emergence of elusive secrets that hide beneath the cloak of obscurity, now revealing and validating that the dark threats were always my own. I hold the innocent, bare facts up to the glaring light of the moon and bathe in the realness of this new found dream. The shadows stretch across a perfect, clean, white blanket. Stark reality does not hide and has no knowledge of shame. Fear cannot hide and has no reason to do so, yet it waits in case I forget.

I travel back into the womb, to the warmth that seemed to be out of reach, but never was. It is up to me to understand understand. To be in this undisguised light affords rightness and the ability to accept groundlessness, emanating from a pinpoint. This is affirming and opens the pathway to possibility. Knowing is what I knew, what I know and what will sustain. Nourishment.

I stare at the moon; the moon stares back. It will not lie; the earth does not deceive and the heavens wait patiently.

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