Staring At Flames That Become Embers

In the middle of the night
On the edges of my dreamscape
Caribou race along the rim of distant hills
And disappear.

They offer no words
But somehow they say
In vague, shifting images of blue
Moonlight and pounding hooves
Stand still. Wait for once.
Don’t race over there
And stand in the middle.

Let chaos go its own way
Confused, discordant.
Keep your internal center of balance
A compass on the bridge of a storm-tossed ship.
What is the destination?
Where do we want to go?
I wish I knew.

In the darkness
Just past the light of the campfire
In the wild, nocturnal mystery
Sounds coming at you from the night
Footsteps
Breathing, the sound of some big animal breathing
Something’s waiting for you there.

Go. You won’t create your new tomorrow
Hanging around the fire, waiting
Waiting for tomorrow
Staring at flames that become embers
That become darkness.
Embrace your darkness now.

So a road opened up
And I took it.
Down some dark stairways into myself
In search of the sun.
What was supposed to happen, didn’t,
And wasn’t supposed to, did.

I don’t I know what is going on.
I don’t know how things are supposed to be.
- Roderick MacIver from the book arts collection, The Journey Itself Is Home