ÌÇÐÄVlog Santa Fe, NM
Within the Hallowed Bones
I awake,
Ìý Ìý Ìýat this unearthly hour.
So, I rise,
Ìý Ìý Ìýon this desert morn’.
This unearthly warm,
Ìý Ìý Ìýdesert morn’.
A cup of chamomile tea and honey.
I sit by the fire.
As the silvery blue light of the moon dozes on the window sill.
A light that oozes and seeps,
Ìý Ìý Ìýthrough the cracks and calls to me.
An old wooden sill softer than the cold comfort of the stone theÌý Ìý Ìý night before.
As if in a dream.
My love nudged me closer,
Ìý Ìý Ìýto get a better view.
Our bodies entwined,
Ìý Ìý Ìýas we gazed in slumber.
As if in a dream.
We doze and watch,
Ìý Ìý Ìýas it all unfolds.
The dance of the earth,
Ìý Ìý Ìýthe sun,
Ìý Ìý Ìý Ìý Ìý and the moon.
As my marrow churns deep within.
The shadow of the earth slowly creeps across the surface,
Ìý Ìý Ìýand caresses the silverfish edges of the desert moon.
It gently bathes the mystery of the moon with a whisper,
Ìý Ìý Ìýas the sun, the source, lurks luminously from behind.
The coagulated glow flows off the corpse of the sun,
Ìý Ìý Ìýas it releases its molten core.
As if in a dream,
Ìý Ìý Ìýthe dance of the earth, the sun, and the blood red moon unfolds.
A howl grows in the dark.
A howl grows in the hollows of my bones.
The sacred marrow stirs,
Ìý Ìý Ìýwithin the hallowed bones.
~~ Mark C. Speight ©
Mark is a graduate of the MA Counseling program at SWC.
ÌÇÐÄVlog the Moderator
