Moonlight trickles into
Consciousness
Barely kindled
In infinite wastelands of dark –
Beaming down,
silvered light
cascades a twinkling of
a million tiny, dead, sparkling lives
lost in ancient throes of horror
lost in endless dark tunnels:
walls as black as the pathway out,
no light at the end,
no hope in any direction.
Eyes given to the abyss
Don’t see light –
and darkness won’t allow it in.
The sun never dips into night.
A light cannot exist in shadow.
But silvered, inconstant moon
shines without light –
and her rays slide between layers
unnoticed by what she doesn’t cause to flee.
Moonlight trickles into consciousness
barely kindled and cloaks the embers,
now flying down into the abyss
of a million, tiny, dead, sparkling lives
that cannot see.
A hand that grasps theirs in the night,
urging trust that cannot come easy,
guides them back
toward the light unseen –
stumbling and falling cannot deter
a soul crawling blindly out of an abyss
that lasts forever
without end,
without chance of hope.
Then, without any reason – a boundary appears – and
the darkness screams
as silently as the unheard cries
of all the lost souls of the abyss
at the emergence of this light.
Splendor unknowable, yet
hardly able to shine
into infinite dark
except through the tiniest pinprick of source:
a fragile portal between two worlds –
the throat of the tree of life –
little picture window onto paradise –
golden-honeyed land of eternal rest.
A soul bathed and bred in black
for so long that time ceased to exist
can barely wonder to approach such
brilliance –
But silvered moonlight traverses the boundary
between dark and light
and dances through and back again
so that a lost and shattered soul
might trust
and finally reach out,
touch the glassy panes,
– slowly, softly –
push open the window
and bathe
– suddenly, fully –
(like we never knew wrong)
in what once was
and can be again
and now is:
eternal light,
infinite salvation,
ultimate renewal –
while the sun and moon
embrace once again:
reunited, made whole, made new.
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