Part of my myth-poetic story, the truth at the center of the image I was born with, is that there is a fire flowing through me from the stars and from the center of the earth which meet in my center. And, it is true, we all come shining forth like stars from the great fruitful darkness, which is the night and which is the earth. Darkness is often seen and portrayed as something evil and bad. Rather, it is the fertile soil of us, the mater/matter of our very being. This night is the great mother of us all, it is the original darkness of the placenta. This darkness is something to love, even to give ourselves to as a lover, the original place of dreams, creativity and magic. Do we have the courage to enter the darkness, or own, where all the parts of ourselves are buried- both golden and sinister- that lead to aliveness and the power and force of our own unique soul?  Can we remember the stars, the constellations, following them like the mariners once did, home, to our own unique place in the universe? Will you choose freedom when the glare of the fluorescent light hypnotizes you no more? Will you choose your own life of darkness and light?


I have a few griefs and joys

I can call my own

and through accident it seems,

a steadfast faith in each of them

and that’s what I will say

matters when the story ends.

But it takes a little while

to get there,

all the unburdening

and the laying down

and the willingness

to really tire of yourself,

and then step by step

the ways

the poets through time

generously gave themselves

to us,

walking like pilgrims

through doubt,

combining their fear

their fierceness

and their faith.

and you now,

in front of the room

under the florescent light

by the reflected window

hiding all the stars

you have forgotten….

One more member

of the prison population

whose eyes have caught

the open gate at last.

You are the one

for whom the gift was made.

Keep that look in your eyes

and you’ll gladly grow tired

of your reflection.

There, for all to see,

the well of stars,

and the great night

from which you were born.

From ‚The Well of Stars‘

In RIVER FLOW: New and Selected Poems

© David Whyte and Many Rivers Press