Meditations

We learn to speak with knives, hidden on our tongues. Learn to spit poison between our teeth. Learn to like the taste of blood, rusty red running down our chins. 

The world taught us there was only one way, one path, one voice. But witches are the ones who know how to walk many paths at once. We know there are paths upon paths. We contain multitudes. We know there are voices (named and unnamed) in the trees, on the breeze, in the ocean spray and deep waves, in the campfire and candle, in the hidden depths of the earth. We seek these voices and name the faces that we find around us.

We are infinite in variety. Made of the same atoms, molecules, and chemicals as the stars. We are more similar than we are different. A few changes in combinations.  You could be the forest, or the fire.

Change is constant, ever moving. But the cycle doesn’t. The wheel keeps turning. Birth, life, death. Maiden, mother, crone.

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