I am alive in the dark.
With each revolution,
I am becoming, belonging, more,
The more I dance in my own destruction,
Revel in the dissolution down to the raw material of beingness,
The more matter I have to create with.
Dancing with the richness of the growing edge.
Storehouse of a memory, marrow deep,
that the shadow is the landmark that proves the existence of the light.
Less becoming, more remembering.
A sleeping She, stirring and rising.
lover of the shadow,
of the liminal and imaginal,
marvelling at the mystery.
Curious explorer of the raucous and the luminous.
Compressing, dismantling, transmuting,
Tugging at the seams of the Self to provoke the excavation of what remains unseen.
With roots, womb deep, that hold as much reverence for the dimension of the shadow as for the brilliance of the light.
Made and alive in the dark.
Whole, awake & rising.