Wednesday: Mourning Moon Sanctuary

There is a place where I go where no one can find me. When the world is tossing life around like an autumn leave on a rising wind, I can discover my sanctuary.



Demons and dragons are more than fantasy. They are the thoughts that float through dreams and memories calling me to forget that I am safe and all is all right at least in that little speck of the universe that I call my sanctuary.



The sound of the wind howling at the full moon outside my window reminds me that winter is upon me. Not the season of the year but the season of my life. Yet I am snug, warm and protected cocooned from cold realization that I am closer to the end of my journey than the beginning. I am warmed in my sanctuary.



The crows caw and mock me from the naked trees undressed and laid bare for the winter snows to create a blanket under which one day I will sleep. Maybe I will remember springs and summers of my vitality. Maybe I will remember the tempests through which I have passed safely in my sanctuary.



A candle flickers against a window pane that protects me from the dark outside my reverie. A wavering light that dances in the winds that would seep in beneath the locked window and I know that even though my sanctuary keeps me safe that soon that light will no longer shine and I like the dark moon on a winters night will slip silently out of my cloistered safety.



How cold that mourning moon that is laying rest to that which is as I become only what one safely loved in my sanctuary.