You are not a fantasy. You are real. You are made of blood and bones and answer to the call of the moon. Every bit obedient as the sea and its tides.
You’re wild. Even if you’ve forgotten. The millennia of earlier versions of yourself lay present in your DNA. You are ancient. The culmination of love Infinity daring to present in form.
This wild knowing beyond the mindless grooming of your conditioning, it calls to you now. Beckoning you ever forward. To become more of yourself. To challenge what you have outgrown. To shed what no longer serves. At first it feels like you are dying. Which is important as you learn that you can only ever be reborn.
Welcome all the versions of yourself home. They have bled for you. Sacrificed immeasurable to lay their wisdom at your feet. To bless you. To love you. To help you make love to yourself in a whole new way. With the sun as it rises and sets. With the bird song and willow tree. With all of you. With all of me.
Photo credit: Whitney D Wilda