I’ve been a pilgrim my whole life.
Searching along the inner path that winds its way along the rushing red waters to the trailhead of the cave with its magic doors swinging open and shut requiring perfect timing to step inside and find Her.
The outer journey has also been one of challenge as I hid in the dark and walked asleep among the halls of those who did not understand.
I knew that mine was a solitary path among the creatures and natural cathedrals of rock strewn with bows of green, bones of the past, and occasional splashes of tears fallen from the rainbow in all the colors winking in and out of existence.
To be a part of the world yet more a part of the earth, I know that all the confusion is a gift to find the deepest part of myself that is a reflection of Gaia. Always to know Her in the stillness, among the wilds, and cuddled with those who play at being tame to teach me. Ours is a fate of love, a hand-fasting of vibrational sequencing that is infinite and underfoot–see our prints upon the path and know our hearts are One.
Falsely imprisoned to society’s demands, the days turned to nights, and the disk remained high in the sky offering solace when burning eyes began to open and heart began to beat once more as it did at birth … free, innocent, realizing Her.
Forever I have heard the dreamweaver’s song calling me to walk, and walk … And so I followed Her call up mountain trails where my breath disappeared into Her lungs and She breathed me whole for a moment or two. And I walked the thick verdant path of dense woods where decay was sweet nectar softening my footsteps until I disappeared into Her cloak and was hidden from view, safe.
I dream when awake and asleep of stretching legs in long strides upon a foreign land. Where is the pilgrimage of earth that will carry me into the next realm of knowing Her softly blazing eyes that strip me naked until I am a reflection of Her unmistakable glory?
I hear the call to an island where ancient women knew Her as one of their own and they sat in a circle whispering, singing, laughing the secrets of love and life, and She breathed through them their whole lives. Would I hear their voices that know the truth and shift into a translucent parallel where we become the mirrors for each other as we exist at the same time, our threads interwoven?
I hear the call to a path of men who didn’t see Her sacred pleasures–their eyes blinded by a structured formality–soon to sacrifice their souls for egoic castles in the air that remain oblivious to the velvet path they walk and the graceful sway of Her dancing self among the stars. Would I hear the voices of their mothers, sisters, daughters and transform the trail into one of unity echoing prehistory?