Returning to self
Year One
Year Twenty-seven
Two plus seven equals nine
The beginning and the end of..
My heart/ My grief/ My loneliness/ My faith/ My integrity/ My trust/ Birthrights/ My abundance/ The empty/ The full/ My sovereignty/ This paranoia/ New softness n rest/ Introductions to hate/ reintroductions to self love/ Sowing seeds/ Reaping harvest/ My purpose/ More grief/ n Love/ n Discernment/ n Blunt honesty/ n Holding space/ Spring cleaning/ Clear paths/ Generational wealth/ Longevity/ Fertility
.
The soil is wet
I will follow me
And I pray to remain sane as I’m
Beginning, beginning
Always ending
Always purging and making space
What no longer serves me has no place in my presence
With ease
Filling me
Seeing
Me
In a shade never discovered
Most ain’t serving me
Most won’t save me
Like moths to a flame
Disclaiming, you may not be able to swallow what you see
But to see
Me
Learning and
Listening
Solitary
Moving gently cause Twenty-seven is sacred
Twenty-seven is pivotal
The turning point
Facing myself
Pricking myself
Peeling myself
Burning of self
Healing
Myself
And yet
I’ve never felt stronger
An aureate light
Fight before flight
Earning perineal roots & my grey hairs
I’ve never felt as whole
Within the peaceful madness
Grateful sadness
Chaotic order
I discovered
Myself
Here and now
For when you know yourself truly and deeply
You move different. You get to exist without a care in the world. You get to trust and believe in everything you are.
The magic
The prophecies
The soil
The tears
The sun
The blood
The moon
The rain
Actions done in vain
The angels and the saints
I don’t like to yell
I don’t like to yell
But I love to break the silence
To penetrate
It’s the first breath
The tip of birth
And you can’t find that kind of moment in movement and stimulation
Go silent for a moment
Svāhā!
Climax
Hands full of prana
Roar through your pores in the safest place
Feel the goodness and the horror
Accept it and become more than vessel
I don’t need to yell through pressure when I’m molded because of it
I like to whisper and pray in my head by my lonesome next to a river under a bridge or something
I don’t want anyone to hear me either, not now it’s too late now
And jokester is my middle name
I got it from my father and they got yelling from our mother
But I
I don’t like to yell
September 24, 2022
I get hate for being an alchemist.
I’m surrounded by hurt people. Confused people. Boundaries. Know my limits. Become a recluse.
My abundance is my backbone. It’s what real love tastes like. Unconditional love. Chamomile and honey.
Calm waters. Strength. I know how it looks getting there and what it feels like. I taste it often. It surrounds me. I’ve felt the touch.
Seeking similarities. Taking risks but not to strike blood, not blind and never fooled.
Tap in or keep your distance, cause once ancestors makes moves we burn bridges with haste to protect ours.
El sol
The sun kisses my body and tells me he’s my new lover
be with me tenderly
leaving elegantly then
coming back home
always
to warm breath and my brown skin
Sweaty palms
me nurtured
i nurture
i pray i find you to nourish me
i do in the meantime
around the sublimes and the life’s lemons
oh its not a sin if you don’t touch me
and holy dances aroused my palms to tell me it’s alright
i can fight and fly, and be chosen
at the darkest parts of the night
shadows, purities and a black head
black & white
all the same in nature
its inevitable to be natural
Freegrandmaa 