So this is the mystery of life, it’s masks and it’s myths.

What am I going to do when it starts to rain,

when the thing begins to break,

when the darkness casts it’s shadows,

and life begins to wind down?

Am I just going to become an Divine Old Dog,

getting older and older,

sinking back into my body?

Will my life get larger and larger,

or will it become smaller and smaller,

will I spent my time napping and seeing doctors,

collecting my pills from the pharmacy,

cashing in my discount coupons,

polishing up my stories of struggle and lament for posterity?

Or in the moment of the full moon.

will I make  the jump to a place of honesty,

wisdom  love, and bright colors?

Will I make the jump to the solar light?