Awakening in a Moon-flooded Room

Feeling simultaneously ancient and young

Awakening in a moon-flooded room stepping with naked feet into the silver light feeling simultaneously ancient and young.

Young enough to be thrilled with the awe of discovery. Ancient enough to remember, from primordial times, the joyful task of naming everything on earth.

So ancient, that measuring has yet no purpose. So new, that time has no more weight than the wings of a fly. Living only in the middle of the moment, where nature resides.

Here I stand in the moon-flooded room my toes gripping the tile floor beneath me like strong roots seeking stability.

No more and no less important than anything else that lives and strives, yet all too soon must expire beneath the flickering stars and the shining moon.