I rest under the full moon of Easter. I called you, nervous with the energy Of something wanting birth. Often the past and future draw me to the memory of Beauty and the expectation of Joy. Yet Now is the only time we make sense. Listen! The owls call under the moon Shining the night to silver mist Which veils the dark trees. Do Their spirits dance under the full moon of Easter? There is no wind tonight. It is Good Friday and its spell Wraps the waiting, timeless yearning For the dawn of Easter, The Resurrection of Christ and our Joy. Nature is silent, hushed now. Wrapped close in moonlight and mist. Not with grief like men remembering The passion play with needless guilt, But in innocence and light. Knowing itself it calls to the Light in us, and gratefully our heart answers. Let it be, let it be, and you and I will feel The difference between the seeming And the Being that is Real. And know that there is only One, The Being dancing in the form. We recognize God’s only Son, The Christ is everything and everyone.