On the battlefield, a shadow wound recedes deep within. I ednlessly toil, thinking divine service will keep me going, and it does until it doesn't.
The wound attacks throbbing with raging bitterness. It invades surprising my attention. Will it destroy me or not? I lay down my sword and surrender. No longer will I try to rid myself of it.
It crytallizes into bloddy footprints on red sands that run through an hourglass. Time with a narrow middle. Collecting at the bottom, it breaks boundaries.
Awareness takes me to a mysterious place. Deep inside, whirlpools introduce magic to pain creating an elixir of greater perspective. Human drama allows for individual perception within collective expression.
Battle armor discarded, I emerge with a thorny gift. Compassion that is not passive but fierce. It sets boundaries reinforcing consciousness that wer are all connected. It demands that I be willing to step into power through the heart and find courage to speak with authentic voice. It enlists me to use my creativity to out picture that I help myself, and then others to wake out of fear, power and separation.
And so I create. In my mind's eye wounded healers and spiritual friends work together.
We care about one another.
Leaving energentic breadcrumbs for those following behind, we blaze new pathways.
We cross a bridge into new meadows and transcend onto a new time line.
