In the dark of the nite,
Water pouring out of stone.
Worlds juxtaposed.
The long still hours of nite . . . stretch on . . .
And I sit looking out my window.
I see the Moon behind the pine tree.
The Moon is whispering my name.
I had not known this name for me.
“This is a new name.” I tell her.
“It is an ancient name.” she replies.
This is the path I chose before I was born.
It is a hard way with little mercy.
The rocks cut my feet …
The people cut my heart …
Moon tells me:
Walk hard on the rocks so they know you are coming –
Walk gentle near the people so they will not be afraid.
The Moon has called me by my True Name.
I tell the Moon, “I feel fragile, weak insubstantial.”
“You are strong.” The Moon tells me.
“I may die along the way.” I moan pitifully.
“The way must be walked.
The commitment has been made.”
Moon sighs so sweetly . . . a mother patient with her child.
Spirit smoke gathers ‘round my feet.
Looking out the window,
The Moon has called me by my true name.
Puzzle pieces clicking into place.
It is almost time to fall.
Walk hard, walk gentle. . .
“Walk hard, walk gentle.
Then fall.
Do not ask for childish promises of safety.”
Shall I fall head first?
… Or maybe feet first?
Far better heart first
I made this poem into
a book
it was my 4 year give-a-way some years ago
…. It was taken from life
experiences