XVIII The Moon

Actias luna; Saturniid family of moths. 

I feel magically inspired - guided by my spirits. Uplifted by cycles, infinite and bewildering, soaking lunar rays deep into my Cancer womb.

For months I have felt the cosmic aching to transform. Caught in the wake of Saturn's strong sway. Rattled by my own child; searching for playful shores. Where is she? How did she wander so? I have been aching to hold her in my heart. To reclaim her voice. To own her living choice. To simply rejoice.

Today I awake with a call to cut and collage. I barely recognize her. She is urgent to write it down, draw it out, record it, reconfigure it, rejuvenate.

There is a moth that caresses crimson-brown pine-bark fissures with yellow-lime fuzz-wings.
There is a moth inside of me that calibrates herself to the tides of the moon's great gravity.
There is a moth inside of me that visits for brief bursts only a few times a year.
There is a moth that draws the attention of passers-by with hopefully mournful eyes.

She is the Luna Moth. She deeply connects to the moon. Her intuitive sensibility screams out femininity. She reminds us that our truth is our spirit. Our truth is our love. Our truth is our integration of shadow and light. Our truth breathes moonbeams under starry skies.

It is August 7th. It is lunar Lammas. She is full in Aquarius. She is partially eclipsing. She is asking me to come home. I can feel her in the breeze as pine needles pierce through humidity. I feel her on my right wrist and shoulder. I feel her calming reactive defenses I've so meticulously drawn 'round me. I feel her beckoning me.

I feel home.