It is a privilege

To know

When stillness

Extends

An invitation

To dance

With shadows,

To dream

With light,

To sing

As we do.

I don’t know

If

There is anything

More sacred.

I truly don’t.

For even

When

In love,

Even

When

You tell me so,

There are

Still

Those

Shuddering awakenings

When we gasp

With the ache

Of lonely,

Pangs

Of regret.

Oh,

How could

It have been?

Hollow my bones.

Dear sacred

Feather,

And

Lightness of

The land.

Hollow the dance.

So that

I

May return.

Unbidden.

Yet

Wild and

Tame.

Yet free.

For in

The Whisper of

Light.

I am being,

Free.