I dwell within a sacred temple. My body is not divine yet it houses the spark of my potential. Every act can be a moment of devotion. Attention maintained, sharp as a cut diamond. Focus is entire, neglecting no part of the self. I carry the sacred with grace and strength; it is my gift, my precious treasure to serve this world.
Rise with the breath of love, let go harbored pain as loves softness enters your all. For you, you only is this moment of grace, rise from the famine of desert to feast on love. The burbling song of loves font moves within you, ceaselessly. Feel the beauty of love cascade within the vessel of your skin; the organ that absorbs touch and contains your essence is very wise. Thank the form that houses you for it’s service day in, day out; providing an abode for your thoughts to dwell and ignite within your unique mind, rivers of blood for emotion to travel and excite, a home for your vast and divine soul. Open your eyes to the astonishing beauty of you, the ravishing miracle that exists within you alone. Bathe in this glory, accept the gift of grace and cherish it always.
This stunning image is uncredited; if anyone knows where it originates from I would be grateful to be able to credit it…
Graceful navigation of the maelstrom of life can leave one worn and in need of deep nourishment. Grace can wane, calm can be disrupted but love can buoy us through the storm. When that love is touched with pain a conundrum arises; if you open your heart there is unbelievable pain but if you close your heart the pain is still unbearable and darkness worries sharp and poisonous talons into your flesh. This is not my way but I was tempted, sorely tempted, this week to deny my love, flee from grace and let my calm be damned. I came back. And when I did the maelstrom settled as I blazed with love.
Love, unthinkable really to turn from such a gift.
She walks this formidable earth trembling with humility of beauty. She carries herself softly across earth’s surface pouring her self into each step. Within her heart she seeks only presence of mind, empathy and compassion. Something in her gentle spirit calms the raging. She is a balm that soothes, her voice a lullaby, her touch otherworldly. Where she traverses calm follows in the hearts of men and women. Fearless she withstands the violence of words and gestures, protagonist’s fall to silence, bewildered, changed. Is it the grace of God within a frail fallen woman? One who has come to accept that people trust her, long to whisper their secrets to her eyes shining and fear let loose. Is it a trick of the Fae blood she teases runs in her veins? The how insignificant, important is the realisation she should cherish and evoke this trick of grace with care, with reverence as she tames the wildest of men.