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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