The old is coming to an end—
the ancient one gripping tight,
as if nothing else matters.

As the grip of the old tightens,
the new can sense the waning hour of its rustic power.
The old knows, as soon as it lets go,
it has to give its final blessing,
that bit we call farewell.

The splendid bull
is standing on the plateau,
faced towards the sun,
rising from horizon.

The first few rays spill into the ocean,
just before the sun is up, above the skyline.
That breathless moment,
when existence appears to be standing still…

The ancient and the new.
A mystery as old as time.
What have I to learn from all that is passing by?

Decay, death, birth, a new start.

I give my gratitude to all that is fading away,
burning out, passing on its final emanating surge of power,
just before it’s time to give it up.

It’s time to give it up!
Your time, your rule, your reign is over.

An ocean of valuable lessons,
overflowing generosity,
kindness and good deeds…
All of it going towards new, fresh seeds.
It’s time to let go, graciously.

Out of the old roots grow the new shoots.
Come spring, watch the glory unfold in its full swing.  

Roaring fireplace, several soft cushions,
the sound of crackling firewood,
a copper flask of water and myself,
gazing towards the blazing fire
as it eats the wood away,
sending vital heat my way.

Holding my favorite pen, I etch
the final few pages of my fifth notebook of this twilight year.

When the one starts starts,
I will pull out a fresh, new, sky blue one!

May the New Year be blessed
with infinite inspiration, joy, and strength
as we navigate through distinct moments:
joyful, challenging, struggling, healing,
messy, exiting, sad, hungry, happy.  
May we learn, may we grow and become
wiser, suppler, more caring, and stronger
as we bravely sail on.

Out of the gracious Old
comes the radiant New!

Over the Horizon

Girls sitting under a tree by a lake, watching the sunrise

Far away yet so close is the horizon…

Freedom is a state of mind—
feeling free, a state of being.

There is a place
under the sky,
beneath the stars,
underneath the shining sun,
where you will find me lying on the sand
beside the flowing water—
the place where I come to be,
to feel more free.

In wonder, I watch the flock take flight,
a dance of feathers against the light.
The murmuration, a spell that enchants my sight.

Far away yet so close is the horizon.

I often run away
to a place where I can melt with the horizon.
There, I can feel the gentle breeze,
and hear the water flowing with such ease.
The grasses sing with fragrance so sweet,
a place where my spirit feels complete.

My heart begins to bloom and grow—
beat by beat, like a river’s flow,
expanding like a full moon’s glow.

I smile – your loving eyes, so kind,
shine brighter than the stars aligned.
No other gaze beneath the sky,
could bring such joy or make me high.

Far away, yet so close is the horizon.

We live,
we love,
we learn,
and life goes on,
until it’s time to cross the horizon.

I do not want to go back home—
not quite yet.
Sometimes, running is the way to be,
the way I learned to spread my wings,
to fly, to be more free.

“You silly girl!
How long can you dwell beside the shore
watching the horizon
before the body starts complaining,
shivering from cold,
ushering you to a shelter you call home?”

As long as I can,
I whisper to myself.
As long as I possibly can.