New Moon
On that splendid new moon,
alone in my abode.
Head on the pillow,
phone disconnected,
In the dim light.
I am a resident of the night,
anticipating at the gate,
exposing myself
to my own shadow,
at the crossroads.
No longer waiting.
The only way to go.
I have lived
without discerning
and appeared as someone else.
Let me puncture
the allured domain
so that I may uncover who I am
without trepidation
as I traverse this fiery planet.
Let me descend onto the river
and witness a deluged phantom drown.
And as darkness fades,
I veer towards the light
and recite words of antiquity.
Dawn spreads through melody,
cleansing,
puncturing through rocks that keep
my imprisoned essence guarded,
unleashing all to its natural flow.
A Johnson
Photo by Kazuend (Unsplash)
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