Pluto, I am at home in your depths, born of your mystery.
Spring dawns in my heart from your dark medicine, making the soil rich and pure.
Though I don't know it yet, flowers will bloom here and make gardens of me.
Angels, be my breath as I locate my heart.
Spilling all the joy-filled moments to make room for more.
The extraction feels unkind and filled with compassion all at once.
Negotiating fiercely with the unknown, I cannot permit death to take me this way. Instead, I open the animal of doubt inside this crunchy rib cage so I can smell my own blood and feel the pulse of my heart beat that connects me to all living things.
Now is a time for bold choices and taking chances. The season is ripe, and life is asking for it.
And then, you remembered that you knew better, to stand in your own pleasure and majesty, like the trees, while also knowing how to bow. Our hearts always know better.
I would say thank you to those ears for listening to the beat of your own heart and the urging of your own soul to trust what is true, not by someone’s measured opinion, but by the way we are all made naked and silenced in the truest of truths that needs no defending.
The muse has come again tonight, a constant gardener. She’s come in, and nothing else matters but to sip from her cup. She always has the most appropriate elixir to bring truth to life. Even the candles light is dim in the midst of her illumination.
Take to the streets of your wild heart. They hear you down the alleyways and the avenues.
Life, you are welcome here!
Perch yourself on the truth within you.
Only you know what has to be said.