It isn’t an easy world when it comes to the manifestation of love. You are right to open yourself to the pleasant vibrations made by the strings of Cupid’s bow, but take heed and be careful… not all doors are ready to open. Not all shells house perfect pearls. So manifest your love and dreams, all the while treading carefully through the thorny brambles of forests recently burned. Not all who want to love are ready for a never ending ecstasy blessed by the great Aphrodite. Listen to your goddesses and let patience and clarity guide you through the burning forest and into wildflower meadows by the sea. All that you seek is already there ready, waiting for you.
You will always know what’s true and what’s transient. Your heart will tell you. So choose the memories you make wisely lest you’d like to indulge sadness.
I am a woman who already knows what she wants. I can’t sit at my kitchen table waiting when I’m in a state of perpetual motion.
The fronds rustling in the chilled air and a wolf’s moon gently watches as I inhale and exhale smoke from within my soul and out towards the night sky. She looks down with her red face soon to be eclipsed and a secret nod occurs between us. She is a protector—moon goddess—and I am a loyal servant. In my sensuality I extol rituals in her name as invisible, glittering strings grow from within me and dissipate into energy like the smoke exiting my lungs. Each breath is an intention, each inhale is a collected pool of energy brought further in to my body. The moon wears a red veil and I am naked, barren without need for shrouds. No clouds exist between us now and soon we will become one.
I don’t take drastic measures, they must seem that way. I only take measures to reach what I hope to achieve. Last year I learned when I should cut back the ill growth of this fragrant rose bush that I am trying to cultivate. I have already learned this year when to let go of leaves that are meant to fall. For the greater good, I make choices because there is no point in holding on to thinly dangling foliage. I have also been in the process of learning how to fertilize and in learning when it is necessary to cut back excessive growth–My roots dig in deeper into this rich soil. It is all love in this horizon; it’s just that love sometimes might hurt a little in some places. I hope I have the willpower to heed the words of the wise and the courage to stand alone as I cultivate this Golden Celebration.
We build homes in places that we know will not last and then become shocked at the notion that the water will rise in and bloat everything within its walls. We build, knowing that the soil is easily prone to erosion, but we still believe that it will outlast any natural disaster. Yet, our homes come tumbling down as we struggle to hold it together with temporary fixes.
Still, we continue to build all the while ignoring the warnings nature throws at our faces as it tells us that the structure will not hold. We work diligently and keep insurance because somewhere within us we know the tragedy that will inevitably strike. Foolishly, we forget that insurance is never a solution to a problem that will cost more to us than the claim is valued for. We will eventually lose that house that we desperately wanted to raise. Maybe then we will realize that the cost of building on inhabitable land was too high for our optimistic minds.
La, da, da-da.
Feel my power. Two flying birds are swimming in purple-gray skies that are cracking open before my eyes. Sweet lavender and jasmine. The birds circle the ring of fire that signify the irises of my eyes as they glisten with depth. They are facing the skies I eulogize in my memories–tomorrow.
Rumbles reverberate from my chest as I hum pin-drop tunes. Birds fly in the sky together as one and I try to grasp their spirit and emulate it onto me. When the fires start to pour all will be indistinguishable from polymer plastics to electricity crumbling my lavender skies.
Two birds of a feather shed excess weight to fly higher and love one another while flowing towards migration patterns to sing the flowers out of trouble.
I see the shape of planets in my deep afternoon sky as they reveal volcanic eruptions and whirlpools of dust. Each tree is a grass this evening. The storm is coming now. Origins within my mind as two birds diverge to open up my path to the sky. I am the splitting Earth. My breath an implosion, explosion.