Waiting For The Sun

Lately, her days are feeling unclear, tasting bitter, becoming slightly hazy,
Her energy wanes, like the moon, that circles around the Earth, while searching for the Sun,
Losing brightness, as she hides in the shadows of her quartered and fractured mind.
It's a protective mode, really...

Not meant to ignore, not meant to shake off or desert,
Just retaining what is left, before the vessel is entirely drained, cracked and desert dry,

Retaining Light, before it is stolen away, in the bright of day or the dark of night.
It's not understandable, by some... to some, it seems entirely impertinently silly...

She remembers, when her days felt like high-noon crazy,
Crazy was always fun, never knowing what lurked around the bend, in the deep recesses of Mother Earth,
Dark would come to light, light would shine brighter.
There was high energy, in waiting for what siesta time revealed immediately next...

Adventure, in every turn, her heart was alive and vibrant, beating with a loud thumpity-thump
Even in her less than young days, her heart still felt brand new,
She failed to put the cap on, of what she gave away, or let others freely take.
These days, it's been stretched and drank from, until she feels, somehow, plainly vexed...

How do you drink from a heart, and what pours out, when you do?
Once, her heart was golden, and she poured golden liquid from vessel to vessel.
It's golden still, somewhere, in there, where molten love from Mother Earth still flows, in conscious and intentional ways.
She seeks to find it, where it went off to, and how to awaken it once again...

To thaw out the numb, and calm the winds that form ice from much too easily cried tears,
To calm the swirling darkness that takes a hold of a heart that won't be still,
To feel the warmth, that rushes in from the womb of the sea, melting open the heart of one grown cold,
To feel the love that always springs forth, and erases all fear and pain...