Her spots are the powerful Dark Moon; I can fall into their inky texture and feel myself wrapped within their wisdom of reflection. They are the wells of the soul, the mirrors that hold the truth. They reveal a magical reversal of solar eclipse. Her spots are the protection of ancient polished jet set in perfect polarity to her amber pelt that shimmers in the bright sun, the tips sparkling with the glow of Divine power to purify, transform and manifest.
She is the cloak that walks so softly none can hear her gliding into the present revelatory moment for she sneaks up behind our distracted self and proclaims her power with startling sudden perception though she was present long before we knew her roar within us.
She is tenderness cloaked in strength, she is protector and nurturer, she gives and takes away the breath of living tissue. She is the fluid grace that stands her ground when necessary, and she is the purring whisper of bliss carried in a mighty fortress of sinewy action. She is insight, and her razor claws slice through illusion with discerning wisdom. She carries our innocence carefully in her powerful jaws, for miles, until we are safe. She gives voice to the strength of ages and scatters the bones of deception upon the ground where they return to dust.
She will drag us kicking and screaming back to the lair of our birth-knowing with the determination bred of loving protection. Or leave us behind to learn our own way, yet always there is the trail of her scent if we pay attention. Her eyes hold the essence of presence, calm and clear. She is warm, fierce and loving, but knows when to pause in stillness and allow our own grace to flow.
She is the cave and the solar flare, mysteries become One. She sleeps with a paw in various dimensions, deeply asleep yet intensely alert. She knows the bliss of the bridge between worlds and harnesses the power of the Divine even while suckling her kits. She is solitary yet intimately connected to the Life Force moving in and around her existence. She holds herself slightly out of synch so as to maintain her power as witness, guardian, teacher yet knows when the time of her own death has come. She is a creature of Earth and Fire, yet knows the fluidity of a river in her languid movements, and the air becomes hers with one powerful leap so high she touches the sky in reverence. She is the torch lighting the way through the cave, and she is the dark moon holding the sunlight within itself safe and protected.