There is a deepening, a sacredness, a magic unfolding
and nothing will make sense... but there is order to this disorder. Love will shake loose every untruth and beckon our ancient instincts awake. It will throw all that does not serve into the fire. It will feel like a death, a burning, a darkness it is, in a sense. The fearful self has a iron will to live. Our wounds, demons, battle scars are both the mountain and the key. Because what is feared is ultimately our portal to the stars, if we have the courage to find a way through. This is the journey... to unweave what has been woven in protection. To realise the infinite is within. Because....love, is all there really is all there really was all we really are. This, I know.
0 Comments
|
Hello
Thoughts, poems and daydreams... Archives
December 2021
|