Moon in Libra
I am sat by the dayflower. One that looks like a butterfly, has two pastel blue wings, trunk of yellow blooms, with limbs of growth.
It is a weed they say. I haven’t understood the science of weed. I do know that it is the only flower in this bush of vines, most of them infected by insects and worms of untended soil. But in their unkempt form, in their wild, in their untamed clusters, there is so much beauty, so flawless are their stems and leaves. Their bodies, their shapes, their patterns, the color, the life in their silence.
Stacked next to the plants are old stones of moss. I imagine a green garden snake emerging from underneath. Its moving skin and slow movement so clear to me, so true to this moment. In this temporary dream, in this surreal dream, how connected we are in our reality and our other worlds.
I have thought about how our culture and state of society organically prepares and drives us all to have an agenda, a project, a goal, a dream to chase. I have indeed felt that without such targets, it would be a life wasted. But more often than most times, these targets, these never ending projects, this constant pursuit and desperation to reach somewhere only to find another summit to go after, are not the songs of the heart. Most of the times they are created only to serve ego, that is all.
And so I learn now to sit with my heart. That is all. To absorb the light and being of these wild things of nature. And I am happy. This could be the end moment, and it would not have the burden of an important or a significant life, whatever the definition of these meaningless stories are. It would just be. Alive. Just like the dayflower. It would be enough. It would be everything.
And I see the bud. Another dayflower. Enclosed in the cave of mother leaves. About to bloom.
Moon in Libra
Dreaming by the dayflower
Her butterfly form, her blue wings
A yellow field of blooms in her womb
Her stem of growth with a hope and a dream.
She is held today by the Mother with balancing cups
Light as feather, lighter than feather
She passes now to another world
Free of birth and death.
Through the gateway of equilibrium of Mother, she transcends
From the beauty and balance of this world
To the river of paradise, of eternal Mother.
And another dayflower blooms.
