ArtsAutosBooksBusinessEducationEntertainmentFamilyFashionFoodGamesGenderHealthHolidaysHomeHubPagesPersonal FinancePetsPoliticsReligionSportsTechnologyTravel
  • »
  • Books, Literature, and Writing

Phoenix Crone

Updated on December 29, 2016
Source

Rising from the past

Filled with fire, stirred from within; bursting into flames, to ashes I turn, rising again as the Phoenix, ego extinguished, seeing all levels of creation from new filters and perspectives; the eyes of a child

I will not wait for life to happen. I will make it happen. Manifestation destination

No more settling; gone are dreary days, trails of tears, listless lovers, awkward inauthenticity

Once an artist, always an artist; filled with carefree, cathartic creativity, color, no longer crestfallen

Head upturned, ready for flight, gilded in passion and bound by a spirit unknown, but being revealed through resilient restoration, riotous revelation, recondite reflections

I am creator. I am destroyer. I am Goddess, child, mother, and crone

My nest of resin and wood; oil, brush and canvas, clay, metal, and flame; woven with transcendent thoughts, dauntless dreams and desires dappled with dizzy, drunken dreams of delight; will burn with creativity in the new year sacred and bright

Kundalini rising, stripping away the old and making way for the new

I am the river, flowing, not forcing; wicked waves of winsome warrior wisdom from within wander thru my whimsical well and rise from the dark night of the soul, to the wellspring of hope

And alas, all is right with my world

SEM, 2016

Comments

    0 of 8192 characters used
    Post Comment

    No comments yet.