What is it trying to tell me?
Anything?

 

The quote in the window,

The quick car in the night.

 

Is it all in my head?

Probably.

 

But if not, what is trying to break through,

Break into this world through me and why show me if it isn’t real…no, I have to stop thinking…

 

I need to see the moon lit patterns of white and shadow on the snow and hear how they speak to me.

The chimes are calling me again from the silence of my soul to look, listen, observe.

 

I need to hear the hungry owl’s cries in the night, feel its silent wings move swiftly in the darkness,

Too swiftly for its pray and watch with detachment the

 

Swift death, natural and inevitable but made a villain

By my thoughts.

 

I need to leave these thoughts and become

Stillness in the chaos, I need to reenter the silent swiftness of the owl’s wings and moon shadows.

 

For It is the only place to be and

The only place I have ever existed.

 

My being had begun to seep away while I was preoccupied,

Distracted by the other, the unnatural, the evil of my own making.

 

But the owl’s wings are bringing me home now,

My time of regression is waning but it has taken its toll.

 

My heart is weaker, my thoughts harder to read.

There is no regressing without damage to me and the object of the cause.

 

Solitude and stillness, as the getaway to the road back are coming into view…

The road to the place of reclamation of my soul,

 

Back to the essence of bliss, the light everlasting and

The hand in mine.

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