it will not be grey,
this cloudy day.
on a day like today,
the slow moving rocks,
like bones,
under Mother’s soft Earth,
hold me like this,
in such a warm
and cradling way.

she shifts,
and I am not alone.
I decide it this way.

she is solid,
holding me holy,
holding me still.
while fingers give,
an uplifting sifting,
of all of the broken pieces,
all of the spent parts,
as they die descending,
drifting, flying into a long slow fall,
arms wide open,
the small dreams,
the small hoping,
drop down into Mother’s heart
-her fiery, molten,
consuming core.

here transformed,
here the old ways,
exist no more.
they will become stories
we learn to tell.
-and it will be golden,
this golden day,
I will decide it this way.

here heaven pours on us,
her illuminating stardust.
inevitably it will reach us,
in the waiting tender grass,
blowing like wind sent by Tara’s unseen breath,
softening like silk on my radiant glistening face,
while my songs and my body turn into,
a fluid beauty,
of heaven’s twirling trance.

in this place,
I can hear the song I’ve always heard.
I recognize the tune
as one I knew,
when I fell into skies,
drenched in ocean's blue,
and I came here,
to be with you,
in this glorious play,
in these unforgettable days.
I decide it this way.

you, a lion’s God,
with a fierce and grave victory,
learn on your own terms,
lean on your own dreams,
you decide it this way.

and I,
with my own heart,
holding it tight,
for the next part,
in my own play,
I am a beloved child of my Mother,
I decide it this way.

~Lana Maree Haas