I.
“It isn’t your voice that needs activating.
It’s your hands.”

He takes them into His—
Plucks two stars from the constellation in my hair.
Presses one into each palm.
I watch them dissolve into my skin, warmed,
Bright white.

I look to Him for what’s next.
He kisses each palm, then the crown of my head.
I exhale.

What’s next comes naturally.

II.
I sit on my throne
Between Heaven and Hell—
Golden, dressed in green fertility.

There’s wisdom in knowing:
If I’m to visit either realm,
It must be worthwhile.
And I am prepared—
For the fall
And the incline.

Peace lives in the space
Between extremes.
I’ll stretch and grow again soon.
But for now,
I rest
In balance.

III.
You watch me
Like you want to give me something.

I know you’re there.
I see you.
Feel you.

Your presence—familiar.
Still, no words.

And I wonder
If one day
I’ll miss this:

The time before language
When emotion
Was everything.

IV.
Buck—
The velvet right off
His crown.

Trees wearing His majestic becoming.

The moon in Her fullness—
Sees everything.

Her black sky of velvety, star-danced fabric—
Catches my breath.

I can hear His hooves coming for me.

And I stand—
A deer in His light—
Unafraid.
Unashamed.
Willing.

© 2025 Bat / Moonlight Spiritus. All Rights Reserved.