I ask of thee

If you ascend before dawn hint –
from slumber, snuggled bed,
to brave cold stones –
echoless save clandestine breath
to witness the lantern ritual --
then you might know me.

There is a slab of grayish slate
upon which each traveler must step
to enter or leave the Abbey haven –
and thereon is inscribed a message;
faint from shuffled sorrow
and chipped from striding joy
and filled with memoried dust…

and I cry out to be heard!

Only when the myriad shadows cross
from the flame’s rigid lattice grate,
and moonbeams silvering silent
through woven maple branches,
and morning kiss reflected from
giggling clouds of birthing
will the tracing of my life be revealed.

By harsh light of noon’s judgment
I am nothing but Raven scratches
too arcane for mortal scrying –
but for those who dare the meadow dew
and lie supine in humility
to trace by shadow’s lift the Words
set down by ancients –
monks of yesteryear…

and when you do,
pray share with me
what you have seen.