Sacred Universe

by Maury Grimm

Sacred Universe. It must be the light of this near full moon that tricks my eyes into seeing every star, planet moving. Or maybe it is the eyes aging as they will, as they are.

The morning light floods slowly along the edge of the Sangres, red and orange like those mountains. Perhaps a reflection of the singular lenticular clouds that drift along the scree. And I, up at 3am and again in this past hour, waiting by the northeastern windows for a light to trail across this morning sky.

For me, this is really the beginning of the new season of years, upon tonight's full moon.

The prayer resounds fuller now into my 61st year, knowing all these evolutions--if I allow--bring me closer to myself.

And that is the prayer, to be. To be the whole and best, to work at my connections, my passion, my family and friends. Not behind the veneer one endures to sometimes 'grow up'. No, I want to grow out and in. Simultaneously out, in, around and continue to spiral to myself, to the Universe.

For in the light, before the cacophony of news, of day, of traveling, we are as old and as young in it. In one breath exhaled, inhaled.