So clear, so cold. So sparkling in clarity and intention. So real in past pain and future not knowingness.
He hurt … he cried. Late late into a dark skied night.
So full of hope. It squeezed his heart in velvet gloved hands
As tears fell of compassion and mystery at life’s way with him
No excuses. He never offered any. No regrets? Well a few.
And a moon arose from ragged cold mountains. His sky came alight
His damaged mind had found its flower of life
Wherewithal to start again. To explore. To offer love even
But acceptance was the scented blossom of that flowering from within.
When giving simply is not enough. Brushed aside offerings no more
Giving can be as easy as accepting can be hard
His dry throat sighed as slowly that moon of his destiny rose
His eyes admired his celestial friend Selene of olden days
A tear ran down at her beauty. Her simple light
It lifted his soul. It restored him and he laughed.
He was whole again.
©2010 Stan Rogers