Something luminous waxes within
as I watch the moon rise
full again upon the Earth,
telling its old tale once more.

The mysteries of gain and loss,
of all who loved and failed to love
or find their way
on the path of pale light
glimmering in the forest.

Speaking in silence
through all our forgetting,
of how She holds us
in the ancient folds of Eden.

 

Painting “Don’s Moon” by Marco Menato

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

11 Responses

  1. I leave my house at 6 AM on my walk to work and there is the moon shining down, and i pause, think of the big mystery for a short time, then the days work can come along and it shrinks in importance for i have been renewed in that glance up in the sky, for I remember what is really important.

  2. I tell you true, if it were not for Her holding, my life here would have been brief. I go to her Bamboo grove, 2k walk, and the Bamboo sing to me in
    the wind–full of loving care. The water buffalo graze nearer and nearer, and my tears flow and flow…and contentment returns, there in Her busom, all enfolded by Father Sky…

  3. Thank you, Don, fair representative of Her blessing…through whom she speaks. Black Elk nods agreement from the Great Beyond…

  4. Thanks so much Don, there is something in the beauty of the prose and poetry that touches home. I really appreciate that you open yourself to what flows through in such a beautiful way.

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