Marceline the Vampire Queen
Alone, alone in the wreckage of the world. The ships have found their destruction, or their peaceful dock in the harbor, and I’m ready, I’m ready to come inside into the warmth of the home, the warmth of the hearth. I am ready to warm my feet up by the fire and I’m ready to take the weight off my back. I’m ready to trust and I’m ready to surrender and I’m ready to let go.
I’m ready to listen and I’m ready to love and I’m ready to pray. I’m ready to allow warmth to envelop all of me and I’m ready to come out of the cold and emerge into the light, I’m ready to see and to take flight. I’m ready to let all the sorrow go, and I’m ready to rise, for within each single teardrop is the infinite expanse and wisdom, the codes of the whole sea. I’m ready to activate and I’m ready to let be. There is strength in numbers, and then there are the sore spots. We either massage them out, or we allow them to heal until they no longer hurt. We give them time and patience and nurturing care and we say “its all okay,” we say “it’s all okay and I love you and I see you and I am here with you and you are not alone” we say “you need not venture alone through the night anymore, for we are here, our hearts are our lights”
And from this place, the painful tears fall, and we open up space for the collective fall into the unknown. Over the garden wall we venture forth into the unseen, activating, liberating, washing ourselves clean of all we have ever once known. We write our songs, we feed our stories and we go forth. We let our tears fall. And we squeeze out our sorrows once and for all. We allow ourselves to look back and forth into the still stagnant water of a small pond and see our reflection before the trees. We look in, we see the ripples we can make, the ripples we do, or we just let it be. And we cry and we squeeze it out of us and I am here with you and you are not alone I promise. The clouds are thick, until we follow the path back through the woods, just the same way we came, and we feel how the trail of golden light has already been seeded, and we follow it back. Picked up more of ourselves as we walk. The sky is clear now, the farther forth we go. Soon, we make it back to the car and find another place to go, a river this time, a place we’ve been before, where we played and played and played in our underwear and had no real cares in the world. Other than the feel of the crisp water, the gentle breeze, and the sun upon our skin. We are kin.
Familiarity pours forth with ease with you, its nature, its familiar, it’s known, it’s something we’ve done before.
The river is warm this time and after I rest beneath the trees and realign the spine, I go over to lay on the rocks. And a new story pours forth through.
Once these rocks laid the foundation for a drawing of one I loved so dearly, and now they hold my body as your spirit presses into my ribs, bringing me back to life. In the moment of coming back and to, I am brought awake by a familiar voice saying “you wanna go now?” I do, we shall, but not before I slide into the river and cleanse from me all that is no longer for me. It’s warmer inside than it is out, this is the familiar feeling of wintertime, and the path to my home is covered in snow.
If the crown of power makes me blind, please help me to remember who I truly am.
“Marceline, it’s just you and me in the wreckage of the world. That must be so confusing for a little girl”
Painting not done by me, source unknown.
