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.
all there really is
all there really was
all we really are.
This, I know.