Beyond the mire

Under a November Full Moon

It happened upon us, a design bereft of our choice.

Thence have we trembled with foreboding of that

which may overcome us and over which we may have no influence.

Stabbing shadows of ghostly fingers disrupting our tranquility.

All that we are is drawn upon to stave off pending calamity.

Thus is the stranglehold of fear all-pervading.

Choking and blinding it clouds the vision,

muffles the hearing and diminishes reason.

A cunning and elusive specter,

persistent in its multiple manifestations,

it afflicts all in different measures.

Yet it is the impervious defenses that we have created

which have all but snuffed out

the lightness of being in the cloistered hell.

Scared rats in the semi-darkness haunted by the dark shadows

and lurking dangers, it is an existence devoid of love and hope.

Thus is the lot of the many that remain imprisoned in the mire.

But then the blessed few that glimpse

golden sunlight and enchanting silver moonshine.

Thence begins the lure and the ascent that transcends.

Emerging into the clearing up on high,

where the air clear and pure sustains,

and behold the clarity of all is revealed.

The stench of fear is no more.

To embrace the light when it shines upon us

even for a fleeting moment, dissolves the fear that is the Great Illusion.

That which robs us of the sweetness of life melts away

as we venture beyond our incarceration.

By truth, courage and sensitivity we prevail in transcendence.

Copyright reserved - Ian Weinberg 2018