Walking. Searching. Level upon level.
Swirling and twirling. Flowing and going.
Look to the right, to the left, to the right, to the left.
Giving up. Letting go.
Graves deep, markers crumbling.
Long lost. But not forgotten.
Open the door. See the belonging.
Feel the belonging. The sorrow and strife.
Start the ignition. Pay the tuition.
Realize what was once is not more.
Breathe and see without seeing.
There is nothing. Let it be.
— Wendy Who Walks With Wildflowers
“breath”
The Struggle Is Holy
I struggle to love myself daily until I make the decision to align myself with source. And that source I suppose is holy. Even the struggle is holy as I write these words and feel a gratitude for being able to share.
When I love myself it is invisible and not. It’s confusing and I fear that loving myself will only be revealed at the moment that I transition from this world into an unknown. Perhaps it is there that I will be shown that I have loved myself with every breath. It is simple. Profound.
LilyTiger Creative 