A Bright Night Sky




Before I could give way my hands began to swim,

dancing with the tides of a sea sway.

Head watches heart play with rolling wrists and nimble fingers,

pauses, lingers, stillness within this

wave which washes over us time and time again……

And then, sure I stood the fool for wanting eyes

which pull and pry to find what lies behind the swell.

Those crowbars will never reveal

the secret to breathing underwater.

It is of the mystery that gives no answers.


We’ll begin with a mask and snorkel, then shall we?

Ragged with wonder and whimming his way,

our boy was ready as ever that day

as he stumbled the path to the point.

Collecting wood for the fire and will for the flame,

they made their circle by the light of day.

They steadied and readied and gathered their wits,

sat cross legged and bobbed their bits,

waiting for the night light to shine.

Medicine time, medicine time,

soon the night light will shine.


The tide which drew him sea side was sure,

but even so it was bold for him to dance the way the sea trees do.

He would just have to pretend not to care what the others thought

as he pranced about back stage, his hands a wave

which washes over us time and time again……..

And then sure I stood the fool for the sabotage farce,

cold doubt there looming in the background;

“Who do you think you are to speak of the night light?

Who are you to be so bold?”

Except we were saying goodbye to the world that fear built,

and feeling particularly victorious that day.

So all he heard of harsh words was;

“You are to speak of the night light. You are to be so bold.”


And oh glory be, slowly but surely,

holy ocean mind bliss opens one eye and blinks.

Ripples that reach three beloveds on the beach,

living and dreaming by the fire.

Sticks drum rolling on driftwood wake Hinemoana from her sleep.

See her rise, see her heave,

see her wild eyed and dreamed.

See she buried her blanket in that bay.


Back home in the everyday household of his wade

Boy had befriended a little bird named Nanny.

A whanau of feathers vibrating with memories,

she would fly to his bedside window each night

to tell him the old stories and sing him to sleep.

stories of the trails our ancestors walked.

Tall tales of a peaceful past.

She speaks in riddles and giggles as only the truly mad can.

He never dared interrupt the circus mind to tell her she made no sense,

for there is no need to find sense in such nonsense.

Why, she’s far too extraordinary to be pinned with wings,

she shapes as she pleases, she soars when she sings.

She turns demons to dust and bothers into meadows

with a fancifull flick of the will,

all from her humble perch upon his window sill.


A calm mind is a calm sea,

when we are silent the universe sings.

Waters so still we hear Tangaroa snoring in his sleep,

so subtle we notice a nip at the feet,

a phosphorescent secret, star spangled in the shallows……

Okay I’ll tell you but shhhhhhh!!!

The time for secrecy is over,

there is no more reason to hide.

Stand tall all you lovers,

you bridge between the divide,

the two waters meet before your very eyes

because, yes! We can handle the truth!


Having trouble two legging?

Now and then the journey of discovering One-Self

has us done in and undone, on the run from some

mind made melodrama taking on form, go figure.

But we don’t have to spiral in on that one anymore,

you masters of your own minds, wander where you will.

For nothing in this haggard life is ever out of place,

pick the wick from the wax for goodness sakes,

we all have our burdens to burn.

Tattered old memories full of dead ends,

the old story go-to’s, the blames for the bends.

Throw it all in the fire, see the twist unturn.

Throw it all in the fire and watch it burn.

There is nothing left in the world to fear,

just old habits to say farewell to.

Remember to have some fun with it though aye

cause seriousness is sometimes a symptom,

and laughter is a sure fire protection from spooks.

Make light of the lurk rustling in the bushes,

It’s only a hedgehog searching for snails.


With lungs full of fresh air,

and our lips wet with joy,

we call to the moon for Manunui’s remedy.

A flock of feathers which bursts into flight,

we were gods under the sky that night.

A devine dance, the step and stance,

ake ake reaching, ake ake teach me to be humble.

The stone people have said so,

“It is time to stand up.”

And the rest of us agreed,

ake ake, ahi!

As this wave washes over us

time and time again.



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