The Cancer Moon

Reveals itself to me

In its midday shine.

No worries of being

Too early or too late.

Just simply being,

Just in its own time.

And that power of being

Is the Moon’s resistance.

It is almost imperceptible,

The way the Cancer Moon emerges

From over the redwood mountains,

The way the lunar shadows are pushed back

As the veil of nighttime overtakes the day.

In awe, I see myself

In the reflection of the Waxing Moon

That surely and truly presses forward.

What is my resistance?

What do I push against?

My power is in my being,

And, like a feathered point

Strung back on the bow of Heracles,

I feel myself stagnant, bound and wound up

In the pressure of where I need to go.

I need only to see the Cancer Moon

To know in myself

That I will hit my mark,

That I will leave my mark on the world

Just in time,

Just in being.