Supermoon

Life is short, short and painful and beautiful. I lie in the hottub after midnight, the wind singing in the trees. Alarms sounding in the distance.

 An almost full moon shimmers silver, the clouds float past at speed, the toads sing in a steady rhythm. All is found. All is lost. Hope, despair. Beginnings, endings. Balanced on the knifes edge between waxing and waning, between ebb and flow. Yes, this is midlife at the time of closure.

Keep going. It will not all be fine, but this breath and this moment is all one could ever imagine. We keep rolling like the clouds, whispering our dreams like the wind in the trees. We chant like the frogs. And we pray that our children will be spared when it all falls down. 

We pray that we will be forgiven for the lives we’ve lived and the choices we’ve made. We do not forgive those that have gone before, we do not absolve ourselves of blame. We float with the moon. We pray on the wind. 

Amen.


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