THE WORM MOON

Rising from its bloodied eclipse, 

albeit full but partial, in this latitude

it star-speaks of journeying:

what do you need to let go of,

what can we release?

The old shadows and baggage,

whether ancient and genetic

or buried in shame and ignorance,

stored in the body and bones,

hidden, disguised or forgotten….

Ah me, 

the archetypal cellars are laden,

our personal light so weighted

with grief and longing for Home. Rest

 - and something else - ripe and primed to transmute

This is the time and opportunity

for the collective to arise, awaken

and re-cognise our transient longing

and belongingness;

what we are made from and for.

Out of the soil and back into -

deeming that is it - done deal,

this little trip. 

This turn of the lunar wheel;

A tiny worm - creating regeneration:

weaving all oldness into the new - Pure Mystery.

Who would want it any otherways?

to dream, envision, pray and hope:

consciously

in our bones and knowing heart

that movement itself is Life’s soul: 

the Atma 

- alchemical, Timeless, All-One.

Images, with permission

 - she, witnessing.

13/03/25