To the child of a long night, worry not. Dawn always shows up even when the hour hand drags itself across the face of your watch.
You are a light.
One that carries the weight of a dying star. You should never assume you belong to anyone or anything else other than the universe itself. Only her vast self-regenerating entity would know the significance of your presence here.
As the grim reaper plays chess with your time, death stalks your every breath. Your spirit draws the lessons you need to thrive and become who you are meant to be through your chosen way of life between descending from your mother's womb to the belly of your waiting grave.
You are loved.
Nothing should hold your heart back when it wants to dive head first into a new love yet you sit behind a glass wall caressing your blemishes. Lessons you feel should keep you from letting yourself be held or loved.
How sad. Don't you think? I can see you trying to lower your vibrations to chase what should find you if you are aligned. When will you ever stop trying to hold on to what must leave for you to live?
Grief is multifaceted and sometimes it will look like you trying to keep yourself safe but don't buy into the idea of protecting yourself. You only need to synchronise with the flow of things and then watch what is yours latching on your soul.
You are enough.
The future won't hold unless you survive this egoic stretch and accepting yourself as you are is a huge piece of that puzzle. There needs to be a shrine of positive affirmations centred at your core for the soul to win over the voices that try to whisper contrarily.
Let what will change you change you. Allow yourself to fold over and over again until you can't anymore. Grieve for every version of you that dies but rise up to celebrate the birth of whoever is born in their place. It is in these unpredictable rebirths and deaths that your character is moulded.
Seek what you must to thrive as the abundance of mother earth lies at the feet of your manifestations. You are a child of an ever-conscious universe and the moon itself.
...here is to finding ourselves every day.
wambuku w
Pure poetry. Fold and be folded until you can no more; let change sweep over you like a wave in the ocean or a wind in an open field. Do not worry for tomorrow the sun will again rise and the moon will again light the night sky. We can merely keep on jumping. We can just carry on.