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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I am the Moon’s

A swirling under
the lunatic moon

she says
dance with me
yet stands
so far so
gleaming.

The wind pushes
leaves through
the tangles
of shadow-

at what cost
do I linger
in dappled night?

I am
the moon’s
so I am
not
lost

until
I am

caught in the
clarity of
the sun’s
eyes.

Inky, Blinky, Pinky and Clyde

They whisp, spectres taken form.
Almost seen, they mask themselves
in cloaks and march through a
maze, constrained and floating.

The moon is what they are after.
She’s yellow, they know,
and round, full.

She’s tangible substance
while they float,
she strides,
while they are ever-hungry,
she eats.

Life, life they whisper in cracked
wind voices.

If they meet her, they will live.

Three persevere though one
cannot face the light,
and hides in a dark corner
dreaming of the moon.

The others chase,
sometimes catch!

– but she, intangible,
disappears.

This one is for all you Pacman fans!

Cloak of Stars

Put on your
cloak of stars
and walk among
the rich
and poor
of heart.

Walk among
the tender flowers
until your feet 
smell of lavender
and roses.

Let the breath
of the summer wind
catch the whispers
in your heart
and carry them to
be spoken by
the trees.

Bring the flowerless
the scent of flowers.

Among the starless
be a moon.

Night’s Cloak

Night’s cloak veils the land
I stop walking and await
Radiant moonlight

Last week the full moon was out over the beach and the wild ocean in Wales.  I went to a Haiku workshop, and this came out- if such things interest you, it is in the traditional 5-7-5 format (5 syllables in the first line, 7 in the second and 5 in the third).

I just published a new novella- Painting Pretoria, encapsulating the beautiful and mysterious colors and moods of the ocean.