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casual as stars scattered in the blackest sky,
Footprints on freshly fallen snow.
Patterns seemingly not connected,
Leave deep impressions.
Sighting the full moon on a dark, cold February night,
The stillness singing through our veins,
The welcome sweet chirping of the earliest arrivals,
The smell of new growth bursting through the
dampened earth.
It seems we have been this way before,
The path is familiar, it urges us to move on,
and we always do!
Anticipation, the midwife of our lives,
Calls us forth into uncharted moments.
But the way is mapped and lit, so that reasonably
reassured,
We boldly follow the footsteps of our uniqueness,
Success and failure overtake us,
We grudgingly embrace them and succumb.
The human spirit is aglow in every full moon.
When we feel it, a light inside goes on,
In its reflection, we find our way ...
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