I feel safe underneath the vault, dark and womblike, stars scattered seemingly as random as you would throw dice, their light and ancient wisdom whisper sweetness in my ears, caressing my cheeks as I stand there in the morning darkness spotting and happily recognizing the patterns of the sky, they’re like old friends greeting me again after days with heavy clouds blocking this visual.
Breathing in the beginning of today, breathing out the remains of yesterday. In that small space of absolute nowhereness in between the two, I am only aware of the sweet scent from the metaphorical bouquet of Flowers still fresh on my table and always blossoming in my Heart. It mixes with the morning Air, and the day is lOve born.
The leftovers from the dark night still singing in my Soul is now a hymn of wisdom, a gift to pass on and sing to those lost wayfarers who will surely come, in need of guidance.
Feeling old, but young enough to feel the Joy, the natural state, and the excitement of things yet to come.
Words gently spoken still ring in my ears. Their energy and origin from that space of known unity, showing me how far we’ve come in a year’s journey through the ever constant vortex, on and ever on, underneath Sun and Snow, Rain and Fog, Spring and Fall, but mostly Sun, transits, twists and turns but always through and with lOve. Still. As the promise given, no matter what. The vows of a handshake.
The journey towards a New Year and the small gap in a doorway of The Death of the Dark and the Birth of the Light. What to leave behind. What to plant. What to ask. What to give. Awaiting.
I gave my vows back recently to the Forest Floor in a Circle of Rocks, in a sacred place. And sometimes, all you have to do is give that what you miss the most. I see that kind of magic always works. Now, underneath the vault.
Feeling safe. Having come home. Having gone through.