A waxing gibbous moon
Climbs across the painted sky
With calculated steps;
Its guise of translucence stripped
Along with light of day,
Lucid now,
Alike the paths which lay
Weaving towards the sandy
Hilltop, where once I shuddered,
Frightened,
Stopped — my shadow’s tracks lay
Buried underneath
Each sun rising,
Moon climbing,
Days and nights gone by —
Moonrise, a drifting
Stone in water,
Shining as our watchful guide.

Past — the moments that
Have passed,
Existing in an image,
Vague like hazy dreams;
The guiding light
Returns at night,
Asking us to wonder.
That was then, so what is
Now, perennially shifting,
Looking for a moment to
Grasp, something to hold.
Time moves downstream;
We float or
Fight and try to understand.

Yet it’s impossible
To understand,
The moment we’re in
Obscured by our being in it
— The eye of the storm.
How to see now for what it is?
What we are?
A beating heart, a drifting soul,
Looking for our place.
I continue to search because
I don’t know how to stop —
The mind wants to be more.
Is it wrong,
To believe we’re stronger
Than the storm?
To get through,
Just continue.
What life are we meant to live,
Yet that is life — we’re meant to live.

The moon shines brightly
Illuminating more than
Mere reality,
We may see our
Hopes and dreams, attainable,
Calling in the dead of night.
So we get up in the darkness,
We leave the house and go,
Urged by divine force,
The perennial source of being,
Spoken to in words unsaid,
Given signs, thinking as we
Toss in bed,
An answer in the infinite shadow,
The darkness of the starry night,
Unlit side of the moon.

To feel the way of things
We cannot see, 
The spirit we’re a part of,
Mother Earth,
Truths revealed in fallen leaves,
The Mother gives,
Because a child has
Nothing to give.
And yet is loved by Mother.
What to strive for, fills our days,
Can it be simple?
To be good, is to awaken
From this daze?
Can it be simple,
To cherish every
Breath that’s given.
What are we striving for.
What makes this life worth living?
Called into the morning light,
I couldn’t sleep,
And left to bear the subtle rain.
Standing at the mountain top,
The heavy sky,
Red and grey and changing,
Unlike I’d ever seen.

And in the silence came
A sound,
The faintest movement
None around,
There goes the passing train.
Time, not then nor there
But going —
The red sky rises over time,
Above time moving
Passengers lull away their time
I savor the stillness,
Unsure of what I see,
The beauty’s overwhelming,
Earth speaking to me;
She says it’s okay,
To let time go with
The weary train.
It’s okay,
To feel your depth in
Drops of rain.
It’s okay,
To be afraid when
There’s no moon.
Because the morning
Always comes —
The sky blushes, a touch of pink;
Mist pervades the sodden coast,
Arriving from the sea.
The ocean depths a steely blue,
Says it’s okay to just be you —
That’s all we can ever hope to do.