In the mysterious netherworld
Sometimes black forces grip
The spaces in-between, although
Why should I think
That they'd be any different than
The ones I touch and move among
In ordinary living, the daily of
Familiar; waking, sleeping, wondering,
About all of that that is.
Lately I have been possessed
By beauty hiding in plain sight,
The tease of magic rounding corners
From the realms of in-between,
And sometimes when the gray shapes shift
The line between the beauty and
The fury razor thin, I am
Reaching for my balance.
The other night I rose in darkness;
I've never needed light
For a trek across old floorboards,
Feeling every deflect, hearing
Every sound from every
Season, as old living
Wood contracts and moves:
I know these things so well.
An anger had been seething,
Gnawing on some old
And sore deep grievance
I'd let in and wished away.
But the daemon came back in,
Malevolent and hard, and
From the southwest corner
Of the night, a mighty vapor struck me,
You let me out, the blackness said,
And hurled me, tumbling
Vast distances,
From one world to the next.
A flickering light went out,
And with it went the rage.
I opened up my eyes, widening to
The covering dark:
Orenda,
And surrounding me:
Orenda,
Had been waiting, and then coming
From the trees, the fields, the sky, from
The spaces in-between
The physics known and unknown,
I'd keened it, felt it coming
And I melded to
Orenda,
And I rose as new again, to
Face a clearing.
I can't quite say how this lit up
The new of conscious always there,
The golden fire burst from embers in
The hollows of my clay,
And then the sky burned dawn,
And day began, like all the others;
I slipped back into what
I'd simply wanted for the night,
Balm and restoration, by way of
Waiting dream,
The far terrain of slumber.
I settled then, and slept.
The room grew warm.
Did I fall and enter in-between?
I suppose that I may never know.
Orenda.
