Lying alone in the pasture, dark except for the magnetic full moon. There is an overwhelming sense of quietness. My being is part of the earth and part of the pure white light of the moon at the same time. Nothing else is significant. For a second I wonder, "Am I dead?" It isn't important -- I am spending an hour in God's hands, and it will become part of me.
Along the way I stop to see
If I can find the why of me
The "who am I" that's deep inside
The real me that tries to hide
But out I peek so you can glimpse
Now and again, just by chance
The curtain slips, defenses down
And for a moment, there I am
The who, the how, the why of me
To all but God, a mystery.