It was sad day when the east sky went blank, with no golden chariot to call my sun. Here were dark days where passion did not pursue me, and I sat patiently under the moon, cross-legged and down-trodden. Lost to me were those days easily seen, where I would follow the paths so clear to sight. Those days were so safe. Now I feel alone, having lost that innocent comfort nourished by light of day.
Now I sat under the moon, learning how blank my mind, body, and spirit were. When I did look up at the moon, I grew calm watching her, noticing the subtle changes in her form as she danced across the sky, effortlessly weaving tapestry upon tapestry with the clouds and stars. Her silvery grace I grew fond of over the course of many moons. I’ve learned of her luminous nature, and now even the darkest sky with just a sliver of the moon feels less blank than that old eastern sky. She adorns my heart’s sky.
It was fearful embracing the night sky, but it is beauty that the moon causes the tides ebb and flow and that walking by her light allows me to stumble on the most mesmerizing thickets. Watching her dance has taught me an adventurousness and vulnerability I now hold close.