A sharp stone.
A dull blade.
A longing to stay
and a need to go.
Light and dark.
Love and hate.
More than I have now,
but less I can pay late.
The world swims in mercury
pools of Duality.
Bending to our every form,
thick cold layers of silver doubt.
Thrice she knocked on my door,
and at the third rap,
I finally heard her cackle
and laughed myself at the synchronicity.
Always the Trickster.
She finds it amusing how we
toil over our silly human choices.
Losing hours of our life
to things better left undone and messy.
Confused, we walk in circles,
unsure which way to go:
A golden path with thorns
or a shadowed path with roses.
I am learning now not to hate her,
but to laugh instead,
and lovingly pat the sly witch-fox
between her fluffy orange ears.
To let her lead me into the forest,
like a child in a blue lace dress.
My hand enveloped in her warm, coarse coat
that smells like wet fall leaves
and the sweet musk of Autumn’s bloom.
She is going to teach me to dance
among the trilliums and toadstools.
To show me new magical things.
We can’t ever be certain of our path
Or the choices we make.
None is perfect.
None is without question or paradox.
Before or after.
Both have merits.
Both have pitfalls.
The more you know
that you will never know
the lighter choice becomes.
So stop seeking the Right answer,
or you will look forever and forget to act.
Instead, hold that sweet fox tight
and let her lead you
into the forest of your life.
Let her teach you to embrace paradox,
for that’s the only way to win the dark night.
There is no Right choice.
The only thing that is Right,
is that you are Alive to choose.