Februarius

 

February brims with love.

A dam overflowing

and spilling its contents

onto the ground below,

over the paths that we

walk along, to water

the seeds that we sow.

The birds sing new songs.

The scent of the air

becomes more perfumed.

Spring will be here soon

when all these seeds

will truly bloom.

 

Februa rituals.

Purging of the old.

Purification of heart, mind and soul,

as the moon sits bright in the sky.

A time of cleansing the past.

Letting sorrow die

so that we can be reborn,

a phoenix that flies.

Solmonath,

the month of the pearl.

The time of ice,

but this soon thaws as love

warms the hearts and hopes soar

as the phoenix continues to rise.

 

In this station,

shivering, I listen

to my own heart's calls.

I question the way the snow

falls outside,

and I imagine walking

a corridor lined with doors

and seeing what lays behind

the door that sits dead ahead,

cut closing my eyes

for to know the answers

would surely make

the journey less interesting,

instead, I whisper my wishes

silently to the page,

and turn up my music,

to see what fate may bring.