Into the Equinox

In the wee hours of purple skies, 

I dream of the moments when we were regal.

The times without question and the knowledge that I was forever.

I weaved my spiritual thoughts between the here and now.

Floating in the haze of clouded eyes and the stark realities of my broken spirit.

Grasping to hold on to the sweet warm smells of grandmother’s neck.

I fell into my dream and released a breath of life into the wind. 

Listening to the candor of floating voices,

as leaves interpreted the silent proverbs of life into a vendetta of resilience.

Castigating my silence as I downplayed my queenly nature, as if it had somehow passed.

Serendipitous are the words of my existence creating an orchestrated power,

balanced to move all things into the realm of truth.

In the wee hours of purple skies, 

I dreamt of the time, before time when we were regal, when our knee bent only to the mother.

And her name was Earth.