Rising Moon
Pulls forth the growing forces,
The stirring of wisdom born
Through my own uncommon view,
A creative usage
Of lessons learned,
Enlightened by the glow
Of burning desires and conviction.

Inspiration flows
In curls of purple smoke 
That seem to drift
But ascend perpetually - 
In shining golden beams of light,
That illuminate a clearer vision, and
Welcome certainty 
Of direction and path.

I am watching Mrs. Miller, Psychic Reader.
Her turban-wrapped head floats above
A black dress on a black background,
Hands drift out from the elephant sleeves
And hover over her crystal ball.

Hmm, she says, you are healing.  You have taken
Charge of your life and that is good.
The candle sputters; sweet incense swirls
Around my head.  Change is impending,
She says.  She could mean almost anyone, right?

It would be different, she says,
To let some things take care of 
Themselves.  Does she speak to me?
She turns the ball over to peer into it’s white
Underbelly.  Change is impending, and that is good.

I am the rain,
Fresh upon your face. 
My kisses awaken you,
I cleanse and feed your soul

I am the earth,
Moist and rich with promise,
Joyously I fuel your desire.
And pull your roots deep within me.

I am the sky,
Clear and endless,
Inviting your open arms,
As you reach out to touch my smile.

You are my sweet baby, 
Grown from a miracle seed,
To stand tall and strong
Forever mine in the thick forest
. 

So many choices, a floating chaos 
Of indecision is interrupted by the bell. 
The moment of opportunity has arrived
But it’s hard to think 
When the clapping starts.

I can make myself invisible at will
or rise upon a sparkling pillar,
Bare, hot and shiny in the sun.
The challenge is to stand out 
And still blend in.

Torn before the waiting faces,
I find no middle ground;
Balance eludes me cruelly
I shake it off and plunge forth,
Still trying to decide.

The path moves beneath me,
Colors blur along the sides.
Each breathe costs an hour
Until I hear my name,
Softly tinkling it echoes,
And the whooshing fades away.

Still I stand, not blinking,
Face to face, a sigh takes only a second
And I can see clearly
For that brief time,
Even through the glass.
There is no glare.

There is a glow on the horizon,
And the light changes all too soon,
Prodding me back into gear.
I inhale deeply and swallow a day,
Racing to catch up
In time for the next encounter.