Woman of knowing, woman of confidence.
I step strongly into transformation. I stride along, without hesitation, and She is One with me. Our feet along the path tread boldly and calmly. Within the glow of the moon, we are One, my body gleaming in the reflected glow of Her essence, a lunar moth my sacred companion. Within this light we move and share our love as One.
We are in the soft, subtle shimmer upon the verdant pine needles barely visible as a prickly shadow until our luminescence brings them to light, pointers upon our path.
We are in the sparkle of the ice crystals upon the black rock that sounds like glass against each other, their sharp edges slick with the overlay of frozen water as they bring discernment, cutting through confusion.
We are in the old rotting stump who feeds new life and is herself a testament to that which has gone before and what is to come, as she sits in the now, squatting with infinite patience as the frost scatters upon her like a thin icing of sugar.
We are in the curling bark of the birch, her skin reflecting the glow of the moon and the dark velvet cape of night sky, as she peels away from all she has known, layers revealed in slow motion through the seasons, her limbs now naked, baring all.
We are in the tiny scattered bones of creatures who come and go, their skulls and spines a gift to Mother Earth and to the winged messengers of the skies who carry fragments of minerals and former-souls far away.
We stride through the world of Grandmother Moon, a subtle world where nothing is quite what is seems and we must rely upon other senses, open ourselves, and see with our eyes closed, hear with our hearts open, and embrace the unknown that we were once One with.
Woman walks and moth flies; landing on my shoulder, I feel the down of the body, the brush of wings ever so frail yet able to soar so high and far. How can I be less? We are all capable of miracles. I see them all around me, as we walk through the frosty winter night together.