Updated: May 10
You have forgotten.
You have forgotten how to open your body wide like the sky and let the stars into your veins. You have forgotten that your bones are no different than the earth that carries the bones of all that came before - an earth that has carried your bones many times now. You have forgotten that time, like the clear spring that flows from the hill, flows out to the sea and up to the sky to come back down as rain, is one great circle.
You have forgotten how to spread open your hips and bring forth great beasts and storms. You have forgotten what it is to have Her hands move and act through you, great snakes, mugwort, honey, sun - dealing the Justice of the Eternal. Do you even hunger? The deep hunger that cannot be sated by seen things. The deep hunger that is black hounds emerging from the cave of fire, bursting into the night under the invisible moon. You do not remember your need. You do not remember the trunk in your back, leaves in your hair, bark skin and leg roots. You have forgotten you are made of this dark earth and
You have forgotten Who made you. Is it any wonder that you weep from the place so deep within, you think no ears can hear?
How long will you remain numb?
How long will you turn away?
What will it take to don the holy cloak of blood and power and rise from the ashes of a self too small?
Too small for the world that calls you.
Too small for Eternity.
When will you let madness overtake you - the madness of an immortal Moon?
When will you, finally, cry out?
When, Wanted One, will you decide to remember?