The Moon's Song

I know how it feels to lose it, lose

everything. Abuse

is endless; what’s the use of trying?

Crying a mist, I hide behind that veil.

My face is mottled,

marred and scarred, and pale.

My self-respect, My energy,

ebbs and flows.

My pains wax and wane.

Dark/light, change/constancy,

Moody, am I sane/ insane,

strong/ weak; foolish/ wise?

I become a shell of Myself,

paring from a fingernail,

candle nub, about to disappear

into thin air.

Aching shame and loss, a void,

all dross purified like ozone healed,

spins gossamer as a web

to living skin

in which I hang,

hope’s black rainbow

structured empty as atom

everywhere inside, under,

forgotten, future, dream,

shining black, black, black:

black silver and black gold!

Yet out of nothing, no-where,

I will dive

into the hell-black hole of Origin,

and grow, alive again!

I find My youth, My truth,

and know. I glow!

I find My soul, becoming Whole.

Is darkness My reality,

light My disguise?

I come, a breathing flame,

joy's well-spring,

hurricane sweeping.

Do you care enough

to understand, to see

into the whirlpool

of My cosmic eyes?

Do you too dare to be?

© Tamara Rasmussen 2018