Swift as Blood

My instincts are for me first, then they guide my actions so they can be chosen with consciousness.

Moving with Intention

I intentionally move my body in ways that bring me joy.

She wore red to church, thin cotton the light peeked through to her ivory slip, mystery’s kiss.

I dance humility’s grace, one foot in pain’s echo, the other in rapture’s pulse.

Writing is an exorcism.

I savor their smooth, enchanting feel as I delicately pull more from the white basket, whispering them through my fingers.

We balance the two extremes, Exaltation and Fall, Spirit and matter, giving embodiment and presence of the Divine through us.

My whole heart feels alive in devotion, where love of the Divine keeps me present, connected, and whole.

We run through long grass, wild hair—hooves clapping, dust rising. Heat of my hide, steaming. Speckled. Untamed. Stallion and mare…