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Fulfillment...



The cedar moth, whose pink luster wings summon their rise in preparation to fly, remains as I pass by its perch. What I must be to the moth, these small creatures that hold the night like guardians of Love, that flutter, not in some alien form of desperation, but alive within their only Home?

Is not fulfillment key to the one truth? Shouldn’t we be living within realization’s trough, instead of imagining other reasons outside of our sphere, beyond our touch, beyond our egos, beyond our pride, beyond what is knowable?

Rise up into the truth of where we live.

Rise up into the truth of who we are.

Rise up into the truth of what we are.

Rise up cedar moth, let us join you in creation’s eternal dance…


© 2011 by mark prime

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