The parting of the veil comes in waves;
Once a gentler ride,
Giving in to the tumultuous depths of the open seas.
We find ourselves in our little boats,
Navigating best we can with the oars at hand,
Grasping for reason and our right hand men,
As the sky darkens and we're awash with the tides
Of what was and what wasn't and what could have been.
We try desperately to anchor into the solidity of a future (un)known,
As we realise that we exist in a space inbetween -
What our memories say, our ideals and our fears;
Ballasts of who we thought we once were melting away once again.
Oh but to see it all and surrender it all to what is and what isn’t and what never could have been,
We again find a glimmer of our own North Star:
The centre of our world,
Our love and our light.
But not up and over;
But down and dirty and through.
We realise that all those friends and allies and lovers and haters,
And children and partners and homes and places,
Loyal pets and states of being
Were all transient too,
Lining up along the path for us,
To gently move us along and back to the shores once again.
Shamanic Death
