Monday, December 21, 2015

the ancient womb

The world rests in the night.

Trees, mountains, fields, and faces
 are released from the prison of shape 
and the burden of exposure.

Each thing creeps back into its own nature 
within  the shelter of the dark.

Darkness is the ancient womb.

 Nighttime is womb-time.  Our souls come out to play.

The darkness absolves everything; 
the struggle for identity and impression falls away.

We rest in the night.

John O'Donohue
Anam Cara
Photo:  Peter Bowers