Moon turns always one same face to Earth;
Earth is embraced in Moon’s constant gaze.
Light and shadow circle ever around and again,
giving the nighttime its mensual cycle.
A shadow eyelid slowly reveals that milky orb:
Moon holds an ember of Sun up at night, a lantern.
Silver shines in fibers of grass, and droplets of dew,
a horn of abundance in the eyes of an owl.
Then the shadow curtain is drawn over again:
In deep dark black, the cobwebs crumble:
What is over and done dissolves in the damp,
while the true Soul survives the valley of shadow.
Here in the dark phase, we pray
for what we don’t even know if it exists.
Here in the interval of shuteye,
pass the ashes, make room for a new . . .
let it go
let it flow
let it glow