After three
rain-soaked nights,
the clouds slip away
and the stars
blink bright
in the black sheen
of midnight.
An ocean crashes
in my memories.
We were nightswimming
under such a sky as this.
Naked & free,
I let the waves
lift me,
and was rocked
in the arms
of a dark sea.
How else do we
make our way
through a darkness,
but by trusting
ourselves to it?
We all learn
to bow
eventually
to that great teacher,
suffering.
Before his death, The Buddha was visited
by his old foe Mara,
god of desire,
and they laughed
like old friends.
The Buddha knew
who to thank
for his enlightenment:
not the sun at dawn,
but the long night
that taught him
to awaken.
In this garden,
we grow best
in dark earth,
damp with rain.
The seeds
you carry
will one day
see the light,
if only you
plant them
in the dark soil
of soul.
This is the way
we blossom.
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