Holy woman, wildfire of sacred truth rising from the ashes.
Woven of storm and tempered steel, she's not to be tamed, this enigma that has risen from the rubble. She is not for the faint of heart or weak of spirit. No, she demands something more, something soul deep and wide open; vast like the ocean and unending as the skies. She was not made to settle for less when her heart longs for so much more.
Smoke and rubble are left behind in her wake as she walks away from stories of the past and worlds that no longer fit; a tangle of vine and magic, she is ancient mystery made flesh, blood and whole.
She doesn't desire empty promises or hollow conformity. She is here to embrace her purpose, open herself to her deepest passions and howl her truth to the sky. She loves like a torrent of madness, a tempest both feral and wise. She's not here to play small or be a dog eared page of momentary gratification in anyone's book. She will not be a footnote in her own life. She is the heroine in her tale, meant for more than the tiny cage society tried to confine her.
Days of solitude will not destroy her, for her powers grow in this deep solace. For her, solitude is a sacred sanctuary healing her spirit deep. Though the silence can grow weary upon her at times, there is medicine in the darkness and when it ebbs she will welcome the coming dawn.
Oh, but she bleeds; silent and free among the trees, hidden from blind eyes and closed hearts.
And she dreams, of fathomless seas of love and ecstacy. Of open minds and endless possibility beckoning on the horizon.
Holy woman of fire, when will you lay down your shield?
Your heart is too soft for this cruel world, beating behind armor of steel so none can see it breaking. The all too familiar ache of the unknown and unanswered seeps in and sorrow floods deep.
Sometimes she stands at the edge of nothing and nowhere wondering if there is something more. Lifting her face to the four winds, she feels the lingering whisper on the breeze, the promise of hope echoing through the trees. And she knows. Even in moments that surge with doubt, utopia sings from the unseen.
She knows the alchemy that surrounds her is endless and this moment can transform with a thought, her words becoming spells of powerful manifestation. All that exists is a ritual and she is the Priestess that enacts the sacred rites of metamorphosis with each breath.
For she is a holy woman, a wildfire of sacred truth; ever rising from the ashes.
~Do you hear the Call of the Priestess?~
Join my online circle and reclaim your truth, purpose, and medicine. Learn more about my Inner Priestess Awakening online journey, now available as an instant access online journey, here: https://thegoddesscircle.podia.com/ipa