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meet me on the horizon, a poem

I dream of days like this - the promise of long summer nights on the horizon.

To return to a time when each evening ended without the worry of the blare of my morning alarm, blinding me awake. Only to hustle to look presentable and sit at a desk underneath the unnatural hue of the bright fluorescent lights.

I stare out the window, longing for days meant to explore the valley. I long to step onto the trail abundant in color, luscious in texture and shades of yellow, green, brown, and blue, unique in tone. The feeling of freedom with each step and the wealth of open land to roam.

It is the serendipitous roadmap, an invitation to pierce my heart. ⠀

A land free from judgment and worry, from the "haves," and the "have nots."

Nature does not discriminate, so why does humanity? ⠀

I dream of dancing into the dusk as the sun sets behind the hills, leaving me with a pledge of honor – another curious day ripe with possibility and discovery. ⠀

I dream of a time when I can ramble free and explore the depths of my soul, to hear the drumming of my heart. 

Nature whispers messages only to be transcribed by the willing. The wild spirit dashes ahead, the rustle in the brush and assertive eyes that watch from afar. The warmth of the sun as it bathes our skin. The soft reminder to breathe in the richness of the moment, inviting us to linger, unearth the value in subtle stillness, for when we stand silent, we can hear the calling of the wild.

Oh, how Mother Earth gently reminds us when the moment of uncertainty arises, we can look up at the sky and into the distant rolling hills, listen to the wind, feel the breeze wash through our hair, listen to the chanting of the birds, and the grazing of the cows.

To breathe, turn inward, and sink. Sink into the beauty that surrounds. Like a compass, she guides us back to our center, our spiritual core, the unshakable truth of who we are. 

She is revered for beauty, grace, and ageless wisdom.

 It is in the stillness we know what pace and direction to travel; can you hear the calling of your heart?


Gratitude to yogini-writer-chattra friend Dina Varellas for her poem, written while sheltered in place, April 2020.  Pic of Jessie Mordine Young, southern Iceland.
Are you writing during these dis-orienting days?  We’d love to read your words; share with us at info@chattra.com; if possible, we’ll post.
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