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Like the moon
seeking fulfillment,
my thoughts hung dangling
in cosmic crescent and yin-yang
spaces of contemplation
until tell-tale gibbous moments
of awareness prefaced
the paralleling of the full moon
reality and life’s waxing and waning;
it’s crucifixion and resurrection;
and the revealed emptiness
of its cross reflecting the fulfillment
of its quest.
In the moon-glow
of the cool stilled night,
spiritual meditation whispered
the mission purpose of inking a
cross of words of truth, praying
they would empty themselves
therefrom and be entombed
and resurrected in yours and
the children’s minds; anointing all
with the wisdom and guidance
of quested liberation.
Thus, may these anointing words be
as precious to all as was that of the oil
of Aaron, the dew of Hermon, and the dew
which descended upon the mountain of Zion.
