ID 4545510 © Dbpetersen | Dreamstime


Listen, and hear


Within the moon the silent flight


Of white






While stars ring like bells in a sky of snow.


Did you know


That the moon is hollow


And it chimes?


Now, past clouds of bitter rain,


Of weathers


Sullen in the jagged wind,


At a sharp bend in the long road,


Shines the light of butterfilies beyond the shards of the dark,


The spark


Of grace, as yet unimagined,


A hand of tree bark


Offers peace, abhaya mudra: “Fear


Not,” a message,


Seek and ye


Shall find


All truth


Within the call


Of the star, cloaked in a misted shawl.


Soon, between the bones of yesteryear


Rise the rushing waters to the ridge


Of ending times.


There at the top of the narrow stair


Opens the rock-enchanted desert that will echo eternity,


Shimmering stones,




Sing that the shadow


Has gone, though it is not that the shadow


Has gone, but just that the sun is real and the shadow not, after all,


And so


The holy one, unknown, will walk again on the straight path,


Will hold the innocent deer high in his hand


(In the land


Of the gold dragon who gnashes


Her emerald jaw,


Extending her five-toed




There the brave one walks, placing the sun anew,


Engulfing the burning cities of the mind,


And – casting death at last behind,


Cleanses the earth of ashes.



Poem: © Sharon St Joan, 2017

Photo: © Dbpetersen | Dreamstime