Oh, it has been so long.
Years. Years have passed since writing last, and God only knows what has happened in the in-between. I had fallen hard out of love, shattered somewhere on hot asphalt, and all the kings horses and men couldn't fix me. I moved, and moved again. And again. And again. I was swept up in fairy tales, and swept down again. I lost myself, and found myself. And again. And again.
So here I am, and with not much to show for it. I still revel in beauty, smother myself with it like a pig in mud. I still have clothes on the floor and tangled hair. I still sit and read, watch movies, write... I still pass the time with selfish indulgences and miserable tendencies to dwell. I still have no idea what I'm doing. So here I am, ingesting all the bits of me that couldn't be fixed. Eating my own self to create a new self. Breaking my teeth on my own bones.
I couldn't be happier.
It's true! My life is my own, and is full of all the Grace of God. My heart is the Sun, my body is the Earth, my sex is the Moon. I feel whole, I feel broken. I feel the un-touching parallel lines of the universe layering and laying on my skin, forcing me and coaxing me into form. I close my eyes and see snowflakes of sacred geometries floating vertically and spiraling downward. I open the great white wings of my heart and fly. I dream nightly of things to come, love to share, curses to break. I have allies in this world; allies from the greater void of being that came to save me, and I them. I attach myself and detach myself and am learning to rise up on the drafts. I am a bird, a witch, an angel, a goddess. I am all things, and love all things.
In my suffering I find beauty. In my fear I find joy. In the chaos of the world, I find peace. I am in constant pain, sorrow, empathy, joy, light, passion, surrender. I strive to be more grateful, more giving, more understanding. I strive to be more of what I already am, never what I am not.
I am so in love with this life.
