Doors open, like solar flares that ignite in the reflection of moonlit waters. They part, granting gifts of both the heavens and the seas. Gifts from Mother Earth and the galaxy. Angels of light flood their welcome as doors part wider.

Across the stream sits the lord of my destiny. Me. She is a queen. Afoot through the forest amongst nymphs and fairies. Her breathern. Sweeping fists of flowers and sage she softly sings to herself. A battle cry that sets love afloat. The kind of love that runs so deeply inside the soul that tears of ecstasy describe it best.

She loves herself furiously. Every part, especially the dark ones. The ones that think they are broken twigs like the kind she steps across in the forest. The emotions that run alone without light, that think they are Satan. She loves them, too. For every flock of seagulls has a wingspan across the sky. And each flap of a wing drives them forward. So, too, she accepts the heart of each matter and it’s blessings with love.

This is her pure power, majesty and grace. This is how she sets herself so far apart from the flock. An empress of her own destiny. A lioness with an intent stare toward the lighted promise of gods heart.

She laughs and frolicks with joy and fun like everyone is watching, but no one really is. Because the truth is, she is free. All is well. And love wins.

These spiritual axioms, she knows, defines life’s freedom so with surrender she falls into truth. Arms wide open and heart ablaze with song - she leans back into the net-less everything to abandon herself to all that is, and always will be.

The wild freedom of her own heart, soul, and mind. The song her heart sings beating beating with her happy destiny.

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