These words my soul has been thirsty for…
Now I see how words don’t quite reach the deeper places
That burn with unquenchable love and need no water to survive
Now I see that what I tried to close off, wriggle away from
That primal and primary fire of love that rushed through me
Transmuting all I knew and transforming all I am
The pain of longing, when the expectation of its fulfilment is suspended
Leaves desire and purifying flames of love
I feel it now with joy that I feel it
It can’t be contained in platitudes designed to still the heart, ease the mind
The heart wants to throb and sing, the mind wants to dance
Now I see why we wriggle away from words
Trying to paint the sunset with so few colours to hand
Better to see it, breathe it in, feel it and let it go than try to hold it
Fragments of feeling filter through
I won’t be a prisoner of fear any more
I welcome the fire burning out of control, surrender to where it takes me
In my quest for balance and serenity, I’ve blocked the fountain of joy that’s been bubbling in me, where you shook me to the core and cracked open the rocks around my heart.
Now I welcome it’s cooling cascades and life giving force.
Fire and water, steam and ice, sensual and explosive, serene and enchanting.
I’m travelling now to meet myself and bring myself home


I flow into you and meet rocks and rapids
I flow around you and meet whirling pools
I flow through you, cool and crystal clear
I flow alongside you, dancing and sparkling

I melt into you like butter on a crumpet
I melt onto you like chocolate on silk
I melt around you like sleeping cashmere kittens
I melt under you like rivers of gold

I fall apart in your hands
I fall apart in my mind
I fall apart with laughter
I fall apart in tears


The way to maintain one’s connection to the wild is to ask yourself what it is that you want. This is the sorting of the seed from the dirt. One of the most important discrimination we can make in this matter is the difference between things that beckon to us and things that call from our souls. Nowhere can this be seen more clearly than in the choice of mates and lovers. A lover cannot be chosen a la smorgasbord. A lover has to be chosen from soul-craving. To choose just because something mouth-watering stands before you will never satisfy the hunger of the soul-self. And that is what the intuition is for; it is the direct messenger of the soul.

Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Women Who Run With the Wolves (via cosmofilius)