Metamorphosis

What is this landscape  

I find myself in

where furrows line my face

with worry I no longer feel?  Where

pockets of grief shadow my eyes

empty vessels of sadness

that no longer cry.  

This terrain, my landscape of

granite slabs and roughhewn quartz of

memories when glaciers trolled
and fires

burned. Oh how I burned.

Those halcyon days when

fervid movement

was the only option, a

frenetic whirlwind of freedom— a

life spiraling to be

who I thought I was

but was not

a life spiraling to be

who I became
not in the heavens
where dreams led the way
but to the depth of earth, oh
mother earth, how great my fear

where pressure and heat met
me on terms I
imagined my own

but were not  

a relentless wearing down

of wants and desires and questions
with no answers and
knowledge. Oh

how I wanted

to know.

And now, in the quiet

that envelopes my soul

the answers I no longer want

come forth. They tumble over my creases and

sharp corners looking for a place to land.

I offer none.

I offer none.

I offer nothing.
I offer everything.

I offer stillness.

If you like this blog, please "like" my FaceBook page and get notices on your timeline when a new article is posted.