Autumn Equinox
I have survived the fiery kiln of summer
baked and purified under life-giving Sun
- that light so bright and strong
I craved it all winter,
yet somehow found it stifling and harsh
during those strong summer days.
Now I find
crisp cold mornings
balanced by hot cider and warm evening blankets.
Busy active days
balanced by quiet stillness of night.
I am finding balance again at the equinox
as I stand here on tip-toe at the precipice
between life and death, equal day and night will find me -
dancing
between consciousness and dream.
Looking behind, I gather my harvest.
Looking ahead, I gather my harvest.
It all somehow feels simultaneously
too small, and too
BIG.
I take this hardened shape of my spirit
purified in the fires of summer
and I paint it all the gold and red and orange shades of fall.
I glaze it with the cool rains of autumn.
Dying leaves fall from trees,
and old fears fall from my hair like dandruff;
I brush it all aside
and prepare a bed for myself
to welcome the coming dark nights of dreaming.
I dig down deep into the sleeping clay
of next year's creation.
W.J.M "Hestia's Muse" September 19, 2015