Thank you, Oh Lady, with all my heart and soul. The delicate thread of nuance where poetry is born, I see it once more! That thread, my very life blood! Your fire has lend me a spark, a precious little light I shall treasure and feed, as holy as a child’s love.
I gave so little and you blessed me still, Fire Incarnate, swirling about like a faerie-dervish, unabashedly at one with her element. Your love is pure, and I pray I may be a keeper in kind, a Divine custodian in this feeble body, growing the spark you gave me into a candelabra, and then into a small sun.
May I cultivate my being into the capable vessel that can hold a light such as this, and radiate bright enough for life to spring forth around me. May others be blessed by all that I do from this illuminated place, the summer lands of my soul.
Let me love them as you do. Let me love myself as you do.
Thank you, Oh, Keeper of The Muse, Healer of tattered hearts and soul-tears, Lover of us all, Kin of those who know the holy bliss of a healing touch that transforms a life, Sister to those in love with being broken enough for beauty to be born. Daughter of Alchemy, Keeper of the Sacred Creative Flame, thank you for giving me my heart again.
May the worlds remember their beating hearts in honor of you.
Awen. Awen. Awen.
Copyright © 2021, Sheyorah Naify
Written the morning after Imbolc night, after a visit from Lady Brigid.
Art: Lady Brigid, Artist Unknown