New Moon 🌑

I’m tired.

Sometimes I don’t write.
There are moments when I need to stay in the dark.

Like the new moon, I disappear for a while.
I empty myself.
I let what has run its course come to an end,
even when I don’t yet know what will come next.

I’m beginning to understand that silence, too, is part of the process.
Not everything alive needs to be giving light all the time.

There are seasons to create, to speak, to be seen, to burn.
And others to retreat, to let go, to make space.

The new moon looks empty.
But it is full of possibility.

Perhaps some of my silences are, too.