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

The chimes are calling me again from the silence of my soul to look, listen and 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, made a villain only

By my thoughts.

I need to leave my disturbed thoughts and become the 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 where I have ever existed.

I must never be distracted again.

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

Distracted by another, an unnatural evil but one of my own making.

 

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

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

 

My heart is weaker, my thoughts harder to read.

There is never regressing without damage to my soul.

 

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

The road back leads to the place of reclamation of my soul,

 

Back to the essence of bliss, to the everlasting light and to

His hand in mine.