Keeping the stillness...

The Un-Becoming

It is strange, the way the ground
disappears under your feet,
becomes open space, prairie land,
the grey swill of all unknowing.

Here, we are alone,
born again
into our true becoming,
all paths leading into one.

Here, it is terrifying, the way
the calling haunts the shadows.
O – there are a hundred ways to flee,
to take the spectral hand and leave.

Give in, give in – they whisper
and it seems easy just to leave
it all behind, your heart so tired
after all that trying, all this walking

and for what, for this? Turn back.

Yes, yes, the harpies hiss
and hesitating, you almost do
but wait – listen to what sings
within the shroud of mist;

this too will pass, and this and this
and all that is the un-becoming
will exist anew, and all that will remain
is the beautiful, becoming you.

(From Book of Days, a life's work in progress)