
Stars shine through with prisms of light,
Andromeda, Orion, Northern Star,
Move close to my window from afar.
An astronomical lantern illuminates my mind.
I reach out beyond my distress,
Where I am given a chance to rest,
Knowing I alone decide my fate,
No need to be fearful of my slumbering state.
Light and darkness are the same note,
Evil does not represent one or both,
I can move past sadness and happy and calm,
To endless possibilities that lay beyond.
To the being that is mine alone,
A joyous reflection in my grateful soul,
Is thankful to the higher power,
That gives me grace within this hour.
I gaze below to a never-never land,
One of aborted dreams, never to be realized.
From my hilltop, I see a panorama of opportunities,
A vista of challenges, some taken, some ignored.
Unlike washed away footprints swept away from the shore,
A vision has purpose, a craving that must be satisfied,
It remains a mirage, portending to be out of reach until it is achieved.
Visions never die, they slumber, until awakened with new passion.
Visions do not adhere to our sense of time,
Their realizations are never too early, never too late.
Back on hilltop, I watch the sun rise in splendor,
Bringing greetings from distant lands it visited overnight.
Slowly, I remember nature’s light and shadows and sounds,
The serenade of birds, flowers blooming, scurrying squirrels,
Nature offers warmth, light, a palette of colors,
The lantern’s radiance dispels the darkness and the veil is lifted.
Now I can write, speak my truth, my vision of myself,
A smile lights up my wrinkled face, never too late,
I pick up pen, put it to paper, going old school,
And like gentle snowflakes, the words come softly to mind.
Lost in thought, I try to find a theme,
A thread to attach myself to the rest.
My memories dance in and out,
While the lantern glows from sun’s rays.
I retrace my mental footsteps and assumption.
They reappear in different configurations large and small.
In this sphere of light, I can be anyone, anywhere,
Attempt the impossible and succeed each time.
About the Creator
Mindy Reed
Mindy is an, editor, narrator, writer, librarian, and educator. The founder of The Authors Assistant published Women of a Certain Age: Stories of the Twentieth Century in 2018 and This is the Dawning: a Woodstock Love Story in June 2019.
Belle of the Bayou
Bad move, cher. Not just the slip of her kitten heel on the rainy February cobblestones in the Fourth Ward. She got caught snooping. Detective Deleon clucked and strutted like a rooster in his rush to clear her from the scene, waving cigar smoke to and fro as he gesticulated amid the thick air of the speak easy. An experienced crime reporter, Marie knew better than to let the coppers catch her on the wrong side of the line, but curiosity had gotten the better of her.
By Maia Gadwall the metAlchemist4 days ago in Fiction


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