This was the moon around the last eclipse...
Faded dreams again. I know not where I stand with the moon as fall swirls through my being. My babies - 2 packages of warmth and light - naked and loosely wrapped in towels, They lay in bed with me. Two boys - the seeds of humanity and tomorrow. They sleep like the field mouse that curls into a 'C' for the winter between the barn walls; plump, content, purring.
There is a hush and a whisper of peace while we lay as one. There is no room for anyone else, just the easy cadence and waves of soft snoring. Tiny creatures that have found safe haven from the forest in the half light of dawn. I begin to weep in my mind. Now they are grown, young men, where hugs are hard won.
Have I done my best? Yes. Would I do it again? Yes. It's the most perfect imperfection I've known.
It's been steps of a journey, a responsibility, a calling, and then an answer.
The greatest love of my existence has been with these souls entrusted to me since time began, since we were contracted with the stars.
I stir and catch the scent of wood smoke creeping hand in hand with dawn over the bone cold swamp. The swamp is a Curia of sorts, where the geese cast their votes regarding migration this year.
My window is open but clad with cloth, like we did in our stone hovels long ago save but a hearth of true light and comfort to chase the damp dreams from the shadows in the room of myself.
Namaste
'He went like one that hath been stunned,
And is of sense forlorn.
A sadder and a wiser man
He rose the morrow morn.'
-Samuel Taylor Coleridge, 1797-1798
