That Rhythmic Dance

I have shared my love of the skies
With my children
Just as my mother has to me.

It is a connection to the cycles,
To the phases.
A generation of past and future
All tracked by astronomers.
The regular rhythms and rotations.
The future can be predicted
With precision.

It goes unnoticed.
That beauty.
That light.
If not for my calendar
And my lunar yoga practices,
I may lose that connection.

Unaware of that rhythmic dance
Of the cosmos always happening
Hidden behind those clouds.
Beyond my human sight.
There is magic and certainty,
Mystery and always beauty.


Seen and Heard

In the subtle quiet moments of solitude
There is time to pause and examine
The obscure thoughts that enter my mind.
My heart finds a steady rhythm,
A glowing jewel that is the ultimate dance of life.

I write and reflect on the obscure and profound,
What is deeply personal to me
On any particular day.

I reconnect to that child,
Who may have hidden parts of herself
That society deemed inappropriate
Only to emerge onto the page,
Uncensured, for my eyes only.

I understand there are risks
For living an examined life.
The appropriate societal norms
Are under the magnifying glass.
And I can truly see them for the first time.

I am encouraged, not disheartened.
Change and growth is always possible.
Even my own beliefs and values have changed
And evolved into a reflection of my adult life.

I am inspired, not recoiled
As I try my best to stay mindful.
I am seen and heard,
If only through my own eyes and ears.

It is enough.
It is what truly matters.