the eggs of a strange bird

some blessings are so amazing that i don't recognize them
as blessings for years, sometimes even decades. they are like the
mystic eggs of a strange bird, bound to hatch in their own time, placed
in the nest of me, knowing not what may come from them or when.

i have seen blessings change into challenges overnight &
challenges throw off their concealment to emerge as blessings.
therefore i will rejoice in the gifts of the moment, holding
them lightly that they may fly when they are called by destiny.
You teach me to regard blessing & challenge with equal eyes,
Shiva: as opportunity in disguise, to be esteemed.
i cannot court one without bowing to the other also.

we are all golden beneath the dust, deeply imprinted with
the urge to evolve into wholeness. there is no turning back,
no refusal to be what i yearn to be & am at heart.
i will protect these strange eggs, Shiva, & will accept what may
come from them with gentle respect for their divine origin.