I can sense your waking
with the subtlest glow
coming to warm you
from out in the great beyond.
I can almost see you
beyond the fog
buried deep beneath
the layers of Winter's snow.
If I listen closely,
I can hear your quiet whispers
cut through the deafening silence
sharing the extraordinary secrets
of all, that has yet to come.
And if I close my eyes
and maybe tilt my head up to you,
I can feel you presence lean in
brushing against my cheek,
like the gentle touch of a cloud.
These last bits of hibernation are the hardest.
An impatient quickening starts to set in,
making me think I must dig you, or me,
out from under, the looming
depths of the season.
But I know that I cannot.
There are things that mustn't
be unearthed prematurely.
Like the shell of a chrysalis
or the multiple layers
of unstable snow
There is an insulation that is needed
to protect that which is hidden,
delicate, and not yet ready to be seen
A life force,
and ever so hard, to take root inside.
Metamorphosis requires patience.
Big integrations work in their own Divine time.
it feels a long time in coming.
And every year,
takes my breath away.
This year, I know will be extra beautiful.
Because this Winter has plunged us even deeper.
So when the Sun finally returns,
and the shells of ice finally melt away,
a new found life force, will erupt out of the depths
Forged in the underworld,
and insistent to stand strong in THIS world,
in an evermore embodied,
emboldened, and illuminated way.