The Valley of the Blue Moon
A tidal wave moment of neither breathing in or breathing out.
I enter a valley of stillness that weary travelers stumble upon.
To rest, to heal, to become whole.
To dream of words and colors.
Warming my hands by the fire of timelessness
I stand high on a narrow path
Drawn by the sight and sound of chanting candles lit with grief
Weaving their way through the darkness of the Valley of the Blue Moon below
A familiar voice, my voice,
I cannot stay here.
The tide rushes in.
The ball I have thrown high in the air
Has fallen to the earth
And so must I.