[About wanting to go back to Paganism.]
Full Moon
Tonight, they gather.
In mountains and valleys, cities and hamlets.
In groves and living rooms and bedrooms,
In groups and couples and alone,
In cloaks and street clothes and no clothes.
Meditating and dancing,
Accepting and weaving,
Planting and reaping,
They gather.
Tonight, they gather.
I can see it so clearly,
As clearly as sunlight on the land.
I long,
But may not join them.
The moon rises,
It's light causes me to cry out for the known,
A shelter from all else,
A bastion against an unknown God Who would
Not remain such.
Yet I know they gather,
Yes, they gather,
Tonight, they gather.
No!
My blood boils,
I want to go home.
These people are mine,
Yet this new God cries out, calls me.
In His longing I sense Love,
A Love that wants return.
I cannot go to my people.
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