Hitch a ride
Viewing the moon’s rise and flight
cater-corner across the backyard,
rearranging the shadows and reflections
as it goes. Only so many more left to catch
this time around, like a giant pearl
rising from the green wood.
Take me with you, I want to shout.
If I could hitch a ride, sit atop its soft light
making its rounds, illuminating, befriending,
without preference or intention;
always up there to fade into, to lift up
with one strong arm and plant me on its back
so we might leisurely patrol together
the heavens with a quiet non-attachment
toward the busy, frightful workings
of this illusory, binding world below.
O child of God, ride the moon that never rises,
never sets, neither waxes nor wanes.
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(photo by Petra Fischer - pixabay)
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