There are lessons to be told,
if we only listen to the rhythms
of nature, even from the lowly moss.
I recall with illuminated clarity
the moment when I first allowed
even the slightest crack of light
to enter my essence. Like the luminous
moss, goblin’s gold, growing atop
a mountain cave, I too have lain dormant,
waiting, until there was even
the slightest hint of light, to allow
myself to begin to bloom.
And even the ordinary garden moss has
tales to tell too, if I am willing to receive.
Rather than die of thirst during
times of drought, this precious moss
shuts itself off and becomes dormant-
until that first hint of moisture
lights upon its mossy surface.
Perhaps I too, may now begin
to trust- even in the darkness-
that there has always been light,
and- even in the times of drought-
there has always been refreshing sustenance,
to quench my thirst. What a life,
lived in utter faith this would be-
to simply live, as does the grateful moss.