At the Cusp of Springtime

I exist in a time at the cusp of springtime.
And in a space ripe for the intermingling of the secular and sacred.
Where they bleed into One.
And it awakens in me a aching longing.
For deep rest and sunshine.
For hard work and laughter.
For community and solitude.

And it is in this time and space,
I plant my feet on the ground
And reach for the heavens
Knowing that I am created from the dust of stars,
Yet exist in the confines and expansiveness
Of time and space and awareness.

Breathe it in.  Breathe it out.
For this moment will pass,
Yet it is as it is for all of eternity.

And I dance among juxtapositions,
Finding movement and joy in their music.
And continue to search for their presence on Earth.
This aching Earth.
This aching longing.
Ripe with life's possibilities.
At the cusp of springtime.