Faith, Moth and the Moon

A story came to me about faith. It might be an essay or a poem. Whatever it is, it told me something helpful so I share it with you:

I sat in an airless room one night thinking about faith and thinking I didn’t have any when a moth flew at the window. He was trying to get out into the night. The moth flew again and again at the glass with his cream-colored wings and wouldn’t stop. I admired his tenacity and faith that he could find the moon if only he kept trying. I opened the window and let him out into the night. I knew he wouldn’t make it to the moon, what a silly idea, though I could not help but admire his bright heart.

Later that night I sat down to meditate. A moth flew in the window and landed on my face. I realised at that moment I was the moon.

And the moth, at that moment, had achieved its goal.

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Soft fog of light

soft fog of light
and tree sense

mist uncurls
and forms again

a branch in
grey silver
seems to die

moon sets
uncurling

unseen

my heart

in the fresh snap
of pine

forms again

Another poem inspired by the enigmatic Loch Voil in Scotland.