Dreams are like the old stories where wolves are seekers always running, and women carry fire in their bare hands and light the dark paths before them.
Old stories hold that the birds will fly all the miles of the world to tell your secrets to the rising moon, and men will walk over oceans of ice to find one truth.
This will be a short post, because it is early, and yet so very late.
I stayed up all night to meditate with the full moon and the eclipse.
The hours passed slowly and the moon danced in and out of view as clouds scurried across the sky, bringing occasional showers.
Finally the eclipse was over and the moon became a bright ball of silver fire in the sky.
I was so moved by its beauty that I could not sleep, and now here I am with a head full of poetry and the dawn breaking and I am filled with gratitude.
Perhaps today I will sleep.
Love, moonbeams, and peace in my heart, Nicole xx