New Beginnings Beckon

I feel the wind moving through my being,
Softly sweeping away old hurts and faded regrets,
The wind spiraling around me, through me and in me,
Softly sweeping the corridors of my being,
And whispering, ‘the spring has come, awaken!’

New beginnings seem to call from every corner;
Old ways are being slowly, if painfully, erased,
As from a travel-worn tablet that still bears faintly
Impressions from other times and places, future and past.

New beginnings beckon from every corner…

There are no instruction manuals for the art of living,
Each being must choose its unique meandering course,
And interpret the signposts when they will appear;
Being lost is only one among many perspectives
Over a never-ending landscape of being and doing.

New beginnings rise up, dream-like and misted,
Begging me to bring them, to sing them, to life,
By turning from the thinking and the dreaming,
And consciously awakening into the newness that calls;
"Take us by the hand," they say, "and on we will go, together."

The question is this:
How much longer can I go on sleeping,
While, all about me, life sings and dances?

The wind has cleared the stage of my being for its nextness,
Has swept away the old sets, properties and scripts,
The curtain stands at the ready, ready to unveil me,
The timeless audience has filled the theatre to capacity;
Whom shall strike up the band on the new overture of my soul?

The curtain will rise on my play of reality
Only if I take the stage,
For it is mine, and
Mine alone.

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen