Intervention.

If I could travel back in time to my little self.

I would fly down with my wings outstretched.

Wings aflame with spiritual fire.

Purification, protection, warmth...

I would then lift her away.

Up we would travel to the stars.

She would laugh and hold tight until we reached the moon of a far away planet.

I would tell my little self that there had been a small confusion.

A dislocation, a miscalculation.

Intervention to this mistake...

Here is were you belong.

But alas this did not, can not happen in a far away place.

I must scoop her up in my heart here and make a place for myself.

I belong.....

I belong......

I humbly bow before you.

I humbly bow before you.

To serve, protect and love.

Humility is a difficult thing.

The ego likes to twist and change things to suit its cause.

The ego protects from vulnerability.

So maybe it's better if I say...

I am vulnerable and open to know in this moment what is right action. 

I will attempt to say and do what is kind and good for all.

And if I am scared to be this vulnerable may I be protected in my heart from harm.

And can I help you?

I am listening....fully.

Bowing in honor of you.

Shelter

Shelter from the storm.

Wrapping around.

Solid but relaxed, engaged but no tension.

Holding space.

Peaceful here.

Outside things are shifting, sliding, collapsing.

Strength necessarily is constructed as a natural response.

It's made with from the fire of spirit.

Meant to protect, Always protect.

Beautiful in its creation....this shelter.

On my path.

The light that I follow, matches my own.

It moves me forward.

It corrects my missteps.

I know it my path, unique.

I find teachers on the way, helping me along.

The path leads me back to original source.

Where both dark and light are birthed.

Complete in its essence.

Each step is a dance.

I'll move with the rhythm.

Swinging my hips, snapping my fingers....

'Cause my path is a song only I can hear.

Mamajama..

Her curves move you.

Her eyes dance with you,

Not some silly dance

Intense eyes willing to move you

Into and out of this reality.

Yeah she's a bad mama jama...

But if by bad you mean real good,

Well she's that.

Real fine and real here.

Three graces, three flowers, spiraling.