Luna,

Luna,

Luna,

Is it you, 

was it you all along? 

They’ve spoken so heavily about that guardian Spirit, 

The soul sourcing from one primary fount,

Was it you all along? 

Oh, Luna,

could it be?

Luna, Luna, Luna, 

How can I explain?

How can it be? 

How is it that you, you, you, 

wipe away tears

I did not even know 

were staining my face?

How can it be

That the sensation

For months on end

Disperses with one glance? How?

I did not know I was holding my breath

Until you granted me a sigh of peace, 

of relief. 

Could it be you? 

Those mystics,

Those modern magi, 

They speak so heavily

Of that One spirit

To whom each human has an invisible cord.

I think it is you. 

Could it be you,

Luna,

My Daimon? 

How can it be, it defies logic, it defies understanding,

How?

How do you do it? 

So readily,

So easily,

Effortlessly,

Wipe away all ills

Within minutes?

I truly do not understand it

But you know what?

I have come to recognize that as part of your majesty

For your power, your reign, 

Extends into all, 

the invisible your domain.

This is why you are feared,

For we fear that which we cannot control.

That which we do not understand.

No, Mother,

Instead of fearing the dark,

I step in readily,

Knowing that you are there to embrace me,

For you grant me senses 

Far superior to eyesight — 

I need not my eyes to see.

No, I simply do not understand it, but I am done trying to. 

No, I do not understand 

how all of my efforts 

over months 

to heal,

to feel better,

to feel okay,

are made laughable 

By simply willingly, openly connecting with you,

The Great Mother,

for minutes. 

I do not understand it, nor will I try to. 

You remind me the limitation of the verbal. 

That Mind

It is Air. 

Words are birds dancing along the surface of the sea

But those depths — 

Only 5% explored by mankind. 

This knowledge — 

This is where all men must kneel and bow to the feminine,

To the unknown,

To the unconscious.

She will always be greater than us. 

Always. 

Oh, I genuinely have gooseflesh.

How? How did you do it? 

How did moonstone in hand,

A crescent on my neck,

Sat by the sea,

Take it all away,

And then replenish me beyond what I knew was possible?

I can’t understand it — 

Happy again. 

How? How? How do you do it? 

This is God. I cannot explain it.

This is where divinity steps in. 

When a force so much greater than your own understanding, one that cannot be put into word, 

Takes hold, humbles you, lovingly. 

Humbled am I by your grace, by your power. 

No, when I think about being humbled,

I usually think about being smacked down — 

No, you humbled me through gentle graces,

Through sweetness,

Through lifting me up and showing me your expanses. 

Oh, my heart is healing, and I cannot thank you enough for it.