Planets swing out
Far flung
From the grip
Of father Sun
Out on the edge
Of the ellipse
The grip
Of the living
World slips
And those
Without
Form dance
Beneath
A Harvest Moon.
The Ancestors
Call us,
From the call
Of our blood,
A million souls
Made love
To make us
All,
Who we are,
Held up
On the shoulders
Of an enormous
Mountain of
Souls laid
In the past
Of our shadows
Cast around
The world,
Lain so thick,
That the dark
Of THIS night
Is too crowded
To believe
That there is
Nothing
When death
Takes the fleshy
Form,
From Divine
Light…
It's a lie
That spirits
Are shadows,
They are light!
For on the night
That people think
Is the darkest
Of the year,
Never realize
That for those
Of us who can see
See a light,
Brighter than
The sun,
For all the souls
That crowd
The world of
The living
To tell them
They are loved
Would see
The night
World lit up.
But just as
The world is
Full of good
People and spirits
The reverse
Is also true,
But while
The veil
Is thin,
We can affect
Their darkness
With the light
Of our love
And
It is the living's
Job to remember
Those past
And lift
Them up
Beneath
The Harvest Moon.
