It can begin
several minutes per day in the dark before daybreak
when no one can witness the odd gesture of turning to face inward
and asking for the courage to see what is there with honesty

It may grow into brief conversations with others
perhaps over some beers
Stalling, though, somewhere in the late hours of romantic glory

It sleeps, sleepwalks, lashes out
For the morning after, for a week, for lifetimes
Until remembrance, when we start probing the broken skin
With fresh eyes and healing hands

It moves by necessity
to a place by an open window
Where a curious onlooker could stop and get a glimpse
And depending on their initiation
See something rare

It becomes an agent in the light of day
Unharnessed and riderless
Hands to the tasks of this world
Heart blending with the all
Irreverent to the old gods
Reverent to the timeless one

It can begin
Several minutes per day
In the dark before daybreak
But if it stops there
It is like lifting the veil
And stopping at her chin

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