“The stars are closer than you think.”
The shaman left me with this admonition,
hobbling away with his stick of gnarled ash.
There was a look in his eye,
glint of a star — his soul,
still stalking this barren land.
As the day began to break,
blue shafts were piercing orange and red,
a warning; creation speaking
and thought becoming instant form;
a mounting cumulus cloud,
shape of a lion’s head.
“The world is mind,” he’d said,
“dreaming us into existence
and what we may be.”
The cloud soon morphed
to show a crescent Moon,
then Venus, morning and evening star,
companions for my journey home.
Copyright Francis 2021
