You say you must learn
to embrace your dark side.
But why did you need to take sides?
Darkness is not the absence of light.
Darkness is the womb of light.
Be a thousand-armed whirler
spinning from the
tenebrae
between Winter and Spring.
That is where the Mother is.
Let a black Madonna be your breath.
Then you won't need any rule
but wonder.
Just for awhile, let grief and gladness
drink from the same grail of tears -
the cup you've been holding
too long in your ribs
and polishing too carefully.
What was full must spill and get chipped.
Mother Raven, with her fire-flecked
feathers, will carry no sun in her beak
to dip in the chalice of your heart,
but a porcelain zero of new moon,
brimmed with the swirling splendor
of emptiness, portal to the uncreated.
Now hear evening fall.
Listen to darkness come with all her stars,
those bells un-struck yet ringing,
and beyond their far faint music,
the final beauty, silence.
Listening cleanses the mind of thought,
of time, of the need to awaken,
because the grace
of the present moment
illuminates your bones.
What was that troubled dream?
What was that world swept away
by this breath?
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