The silence comes after the words.
The quiet that follows the storm.
The high waters now retreating.
The world now frozen. Quiet.
The sunlight dances on my face and kisses my cheek. Color fiction. In frozen prisms he casts a thousand diamonds in my wet eyes.
I asked gOd for strength and he gave me tears.
A break from the Heart work.
Leaning into the light and staying there. Speaking only to and that which is uplifting.
Turning my back to the darkness that wants to dance with me and make me bind my words and deeds in there. The effort. The strength. Spotting instantly the fallacy and getting lost in the labyrinths of tricks and word twisting. Better then to fall silent. Keeping sanity though it looks like madness and the witch hunt again. I have nothing left to throw in that fire. So I become the flame.
The Two Lovers in their frozen embrace. She is still wet, but her water froze in the middle of its momentum. Waiting for warmth and reason to flow again.
There is not much but cold out here, though the feel of the grove, my sacred place of power, is friendly.
She holds her energetic arms out to embrace and comfort me, to take me in, but stays quiet and have no wisdom today. No advice. Nothing I don’t already know.
I am alone in the magical forest where all invisible things are alive and care not that it is winter.
They all look puzzled. I know. I have come alone too often lately.
‘It is not right,’ they whisper and keep extending his invitation.
He should come. It would do him good. But he’s running behind now. Fixed, lured and stuck in his basement. And I am moving forward. My part is done. Can’t remember the last time we walked through the portals and the enchanted forest together, it seems like forever ago. And there is so much magic here to work with. To lighten the proces. That which is heavy to bear alone. To open the heart to healing. Put down the burden.
I see his red tale as he turns to soar above the taller trees in the clearing. Today his magic is offered to me. The red dragon, and his medicine that affirms the tale of tales wherein synchronistic events are still to be lived. Still on a cosmic treasure hunt. The signs of late.
The magic word in exchange for a special piece of jewelry so precious, so dear, yet to be said.
I stop and listen to the silence the quiet of the empty forest offer. In this instant I see her. She walks out from the middle of the field toward me.
She stands before me all lush, alive and so sweet. So warm. So full of a vibrant promise any words cannot yet express.
She lays her grace within my frozenness. In her sweet honey like essence she impresses all my senses with knowing her.
The warmth. The tenderness.
The promise of lOve.
She kisses me gently and assures me of what is coming. In every cell that pulsates and shapes the me that I am she lays her pearls. So I know and won't forget.
She is the Summer that is coming.