Memoirs of the Moon
The path starts at birth. Now beginnings seem to have been forgotten. Childhood is slipping away with age. The earliest I can remember is running. This running was from that part of myself I refused to acknowledge. If I kept busy I wouldn’t see my shadow. It would trail behind me like a lioness. She knew her prey. Stealthy, hidden, kept out of sight. She was patient. She knew the day would come when I could no longer run. The day when my legs would give out from exhaustion. Stumbling and rolling down the hill, my knees scratched and bloodied. Rocks embedded in my arms. The bloody scratches along my chest from the briars of my ego.When that day came, I coward into a ball on the floor. Tears were streaming stinging the scars on my face. I shivered with fear as I watched her approach.
I felt her presence. I always have in the bottom of my heart. I always heard her whispering and nudging me. Now I had no choice. I was bloodied and crushed. My ego shattered across the floor after leaving scars I felt would never heal. As she came within a breathes distance, I closed my eyes waiting to be devoured. I was confused. I felt such fear and now relief. I only heard silence and felt this warmth envelope me. My face was no longer stinging. Slowly I pried open my eyes and blinked away the leftover tears. She nudged my foot in comfort. Then the realization dawned on me. I had feared her. Yet she was my greatest comfort in my time of need. Without her I had been spinning out of control. In letting my ego shatter I have found my center, my core in my shadow. The tears I now felt streaming were from sheer joy. What I had feared was what I did not know. For the storm that had passed I was thankful. I was overjoyed to have found such a gift. I felt, for the time being, that I was now whole.