Welcome,
Friend.
I light the candle.
Our journey begins.
And what a journey.
What better place to find quiet and sanctuary than a library?
And what softer light to guide our way than the moon?
Settle into your bed or your place of rest.
Take time to make yourself comfortable and warm.
Allow your body to be held by the softness around you.
Taking our time just to arrive,
Just to be,
And just to breathe.
As we settle into the realms of dream,
We may imagine crossing a bridge to bring us to the most beautiful library.
Silent librarians wait for you to welcome you in to this special and sacred place.
There is no need to rush,
Nothing is ever lost,
And all dreams are held safely.
The space of the library opens before you.
A circular hall of glass,
Pale stone,
And shells rising in gentle spirals.
Candles flicker softly,
Their glow pooling on shining floors.
Pearls and moonstones held in book bindings,
And star maps rippled with sparkling light rolled in scrolls.
You walk the circle,
The architecture mirrors the moon herself.
Curves echo lunar phases,
Curves echo the cycles of sleep.
Walk slowly,
Fingertips brushing shelves,
Pages whisper as if greeting you.
Shoulders release,
Muscles soft.
The air is warm,
The library is quiet,
And you are held.
First,
The new moon.
Empty pages gleaming with potential.
Soft,
Silver ink waits in dishes,
Each step a ripple across the surface of sleep and dream.
Waxing moon,
Pale ink marks begin to gather.
Star maps trace paths across the night sky.
Pages turn themselves,
Quietly,
Softly.
Light rises on silvered pens.
Writing reflects your own tides of thought.
The library moves with you,
Curves with you,
Holds you.
Shimmering moonlight spills across the shelves.
Pearls glint as tiny moons.
You walk in slow arcs.
Everything glows,
Opal,
Pearl,
Star maps sparkle.
Sleep gathers gently,
The library hums softly.
Breath softens,
Body sinks into shining light.
You are home.
You are hell.
You are safe.
Gentle tides of memory.
Thoughts drift,
Remembering what is safe,
What is hell.
Sanctuary,
Safety,
Home,
Shelves of translucent books.
Show pages of dreams from ancient oceans,
Forests and stars.
A quiet librarian whispers,
Sub-dreams are sleep.
Pages rustle faintly.
Candles glow,
Opal,
With sparkling stars.
Reflecting a sky that watches over us.
Inhale,
Exhale,
The rhythms of the moon and light settle.
Phases pass silently around you.
Sleep deepens.
Rest,
Dream.
Sanctuary,
Safety,
Home.
Candles flicker,
Pages whisper.
Star maps ripple.
Soft,
Slow,
Settle,
Roam,
Waxing,
Full moon.
Circles within circles,
Sleep within sleep.
Breath within breath,
Palms catch the light,
Pages turn themselves,
Sleep flows.
Breath rises,
Breath falls,
Moonlight rises,
Moonlight fades.
Exhale,
The rhythms of the moon and light settle.
Phases pass silently around you.
Sleep deepens.
Rest,
Dream.
Sanctuary,
Safety,
Home.
Candles flicker,
Pages whisper.
Star maps ripple.
Soft,
Slow,
Go,
Waxing,
Full moon.
Circles within circles,
Sleep within sleep.
Breath within breath,
Library hums quietly,
Like memory.
Palms catch the light,
Pages turn themselves.
Breath rises,
Breath falls,
Moonlight rises,
Moonlight fades.
Exhale,
The rhythms of the moon and light settle.
Phases pass silently around you.
Sleep deepens.
Rest,
Dream,
Safety,
Candles flicker,
Pages whisper.
Star maps ripple.
Soft,
Slow,
Go,
Waxing,
Full moon.
Circles within circles,
Sleep within sleep.
Breath within breath,
Pages turn themselves.
Breath rises,
Breath falls,
Moonlight rises,
Moonlight fades.
The sunlight is not loud.
It is peach soft and warm.
The sky kissed with morning clarity.
Doors gently open in soft waking.
The moon completes a circle.
Light glows faintly behind the windows.
Golden reflections and quiet shimmers.
Pages close gently.
The library seems to sigh softly.
Sleep has carried you through each phase of the moon.
Memories return softly,
Like morning dew on window glass.
You stretch slowly if you wish.
Awareness gathers soft and luminous.
The library remains a circle of home within you.
Softly you awaken to renewal,
Ready for the day,
But still held in the memory of moonlight.
You may open your eyes if you are ready,
Or drift a little longer.
The library is always here.
The moon always returns in soft glowing light.
