The Decent

 

    The Decent

An Owl hoots nearby
Setting a rhythm
For the knocking
At the first gate
I've been here before
I know to loose the tears
Shed them
And leave them
Soaking into the thirsty turf
Take a deep breath
Once I shut this gate behind me
No turning back
There is no gatekeeper here.
The wheel of Life
Will strip me of all I cling to
Solitary journey
Understood path before me
I hang my cloak of identity
On a bare branch
Perhaps to collect it
When I ascend
For Imbolc

Footprints of soot
Mark my decent
Walking the ancient path
Of all those before me
I begin chanting
A timeless poem
Honoring Persephone
Beseeching Inanna
Once my memories
And ego are burnt away
Nothing left but my silhouette
The gift of sleep is bestowed.

When it becomes time
To awaken and return
Will you touch my cheek?
Will you whisper?
Remind me?
Of the path renewal
That leads up to
The Forests of knowing