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observing the light revealing a foreign landscape
swimming in unfamiliar sees
discovering unsuspected corners of a personality
believed to be solidified forever
in open wounds
wounds that are
nothing else
than eternal possibility
of healing transformation
moving towards different horizons
through the rising sun
leaving behind
patterns of dependency
seizing the unknown with generous confidence
that every new step
is bearing towards the threshold
to glory
joy
bathed in moonlight
as a silent brook
running steadily
towards its ocean
oceans of joy
embracing the earth
to keep it from
falling apart
clouds of confusion
keeps the stars out
leaving a misty grey of too many thoughts
and impressions
to be clarified
walking in spirals
losing sight of whatever it is
we are walking towards
on the edge of sanity
longing for something to hold on to
being painfully aware
that the most dangerous thing
is to believe we know
the moon is neither veiled
nor swallowed
but walking in and out clouds
as consciousness is walking in and out emotions
longing to shine bright
not a single cloud was there this morning
to swallow the moon
nothing there to veil the insights
nothing to disturb the mind
with misty impressions and several interpretations
for the intelligence to discern
there was the naked essence
of all things
and an invitation to face it
if we dare
if we wish
and if we have been given the gift
to see
waking up with dawn
is like a mothers caress
on an innocent cheek
feeling the light of consciousness
accompanying the light of day
on a light food
in a silent dance
no one is going to disturb
since most of the world is still asleep
and darkness just vanished
the moon was there this morning
as almost full as possible
before an ignorant cloud
unaware of its deed
swallowed it to leave
darkness receive the breaking day
but even in darkness
lies a hidden curiosity
to unfold the unknown
discover the invisible
grasp the intangible
and somewhere
the impatience of that curiosity
is running just beneath the skin
always waiting for light to break
into illumination
a soft wind has blown away the clouds
whispering cheerfully in the first dry leaves at the top of the trees
impatient to play with them, once they are dead
ready to fly free
in a soft fall
towards eternity
allowing the mystery
of resurrection
to be fulfilled
the hour is the same
but the darkness is dense and impenetrable by now
allowing the night to prolong
into the first conscious hours of the day
there is something soothing about it
an opening toward deep reflection
in a protected condition
the annual return
does not seem to have accustomed the mind
once again bewildered
even if grateful
for being able to engage the senses
in yet another way