A tower on the Horizon
A tower on the horizon
It seems as if it’s all just going to fall. Over and over and over again, one thing after the next after the next. I stopped and I asked myself “are we ever really free? Does this ever really end? When will I know that I have made it to the promised land?” Is it when those people around me that I once knew to be cruel have changed their ways? Is it when those I once knew to be kind show me their inner darkness so clearly that I cannot look away? Is it when the final ball drops and all else just falls away. There’s a quiet in the night. There’s a stillness, a silence, and opening, and a friend, a lover, a healer, a helper who knows, who has always known, who guides the way. One I have known forever, two different stars in the night. Will I ever find the one who shines in the way that I do? The one who is bright in the way that I am? The one who knows to their core our interwoven divine plan? Connected from desire and truth, brought tougher to never be torn apart.
An empty belly, a chest caved in, yet a tender graceful touch who opened me up. So soft, so easy, so sweet, so patient, and I remember, I remember what love is. For I am held in her arms. I am held in her embrace, and it’s the one that reminds me that I do not need to hold back on what it is that I need to say. It’s the one that says I do not need to worry or falter in my slow and steady rise. It’s the one that says to let them come to you from desire and not from need. It’s the one that says rest and let yourself be. It’s the voice that says you can keep going as far as you wish and that the wild stallion of your heart will never run too far from the truth of you, for the one who runs to feel the wind in your hair is the one who carries the heart true and fair. The one who knows the song of the birds and the kiss of the mist and dance of the rocks and streams and the trees. The rhythmic beating of the earth waking up to us, of us finally waking up to her, of us finally ready to listen, to hear, to know, to feel, to return home to truth. We are ready, it is our time. This is your call and your reminder to come back home. Back home to you, back home to life, back home to the heart within.
Do you feel the concave of your chest? Do you feel the need to stretch out a hand to those around? Do you feel as if it is your job to walk the line yet to not go too far for you do not want to rock things loose? Are you the one with the intense stare and the sharp gaze that cuts straight to the truth and then fills us back up with the care, the care of our own touch? Cut down straight to the core I received a drop of my own medicine on the tongue of another. And it made me flinch and it made me squirm and I tried to move away yet in her gaze I was held, helped, suspended in space and time and I proclaimed “bring to me those who open me up, those who hold me in tender strong arms, who help me heal and see and feel the depths of me that I have not yet reached. Bring to me those who know me, bring to me those that care. Bring to me those that are not afraid to see me true and help me see myself”
I was told that I do not need to search in the darkness to find my true self, that all that I am is already here. I was told that I do not need to swim deeper to find more of me, that I am already all that there is. I was told that I do not need to heal others, that that is the time we have grown beyond, for I simply follow me and what lights me up and my desires and the overflow of my own cup fills those around me. It’s a trifling thought. One that brings me up and down and then back into my body. Is this something that I can trust? As things move and flow in ways that I do not know? How do I know the distinction between me and another? Where do the boundaries exist when all else falls? I was holding on so tightly to the way that I thought they needed to be. The prescribed rules the ones that they taught me about. Because to deviate from the norm felt like a complete stranger. A complete absence of what once was, a complete opening into the unknown.
I am told that to experiment is the way to find what works, yet from a heart caved in, all I yearn for is the softness. The end, the peace, the space of something known. Something it hold onto because if a tower is on the horizon, I want to know that I have a place to fall, I have a place to reside within, I have a net of safety, of protection, of being provided for.
Is a stone a weight too heavy for a bird meant to fly? Or is a stone one that is there to return to again and again when the flying times are done, when life calls for rest and peace and to make a family. Is a stone the place to build a nest or is a tree a better place for that? Does the bird think into the future? Does my plan need to extend beyond the now? For it does and it always has. Can I forgive you for what you’ve done? Or should I let go and find another? A fellow bird who knows how to fly? One who stands by my side for life. A fellow crow or a fellow swan, one who will there eternally.
I asked about true love and the man on my table said no. There’s too many possibilities. His life devoid of magic, the tattoo on his wrist speaking of the divine plan something he now wished get away from. A heart broken too many times that it cannot get hurt again, he said, yet magic and true love were not on the table with him. Two birds being tattooed on his chest, partners, mates. His love is on the way, and true love will fill him. And soon, magic will begin. Magic will be remembered, and then he will know, for it’s all in the plan that he tattooed on his wrist from the start. It’s all in the plan that he’s always known.
The matchmaker who stays single is the one who is afraid of her own heart.
