The clouds are gone. Bright stars wink, sprinkled across the black sky. I close my eyes to meditate, breathing, but the stars call to me. As I open my eyes a shooting star burns across the southern horizon. I give up on the breathing exercises and stare into the night. There is something inspiring about these cold, brilliant points of light, far away, in deep space. Silently they whisper stories to me I can’t hear and don’t understand, tales that began and ended a millennium ago. Today will start without the calmness of meditation, but with a primal touch in the depth of my soul. An unnamed stirring, a tickle, a dream fading just out of reach, a memory on the tip of my tongue, then gone. A mystery. The mystery.

The Mystery  was originally published in vol 1, issue 2 of the Syzygy Poetry Journal, October 7 2015