The moon arose and called her name
and filled her with joy and repose;
She knew her name, now, safe to say,
The moon her shadow can illuminate:
all that is real, all that is true;
And the man in the moon became,
her identic one…her truth.
Be laid waste all that remain, and yet,
Her voice shines softly saying,
“I am here, I am real, though they know not my name.”
But her identity became his,
and the truth became known,
and her biggest blessing remained:
Her disguise –
Of all that is holy, of all that is right,
in this his softly swaying, softly truth-seeking light.
And all became one.
And all became whole.
And she knew her need no more in his light:
She came home.
-LFE, Dancing in the Dark: poems from the night hours