The Earth is quivering beneath my feet, vibrating with the thumping of footsteps or drum beats, heartbeats- h-eart(h)beats. With every pulsing vibration I find myself closer to collapsing. The wind is not howling, it is screeching. I cannot bring myself to carry on moving, so I drop to my knees.
As my knees hit the ground the tears start to rise from the heat in my cheeks, these are not tears of pain, they are tears of ecstasy, of rapture, of Her closeness. I offer wine and burn flowers. I cannot let the winter ice over my heart; there is a beauty in being able to acknowledge that sometimes there might not be anything to say, but there are still emotions to feel.
I feel my shell start to crack, as I kneel at Her feet, kissing the ground. I cannot see Her face, but I can feel Her, Serpentine, Oceanic. Her touch is the flame that is inside of my heart, the warm glow of the torches. I start to feel every emotion come pouring out of the now-cracked porcelain veneer that I so carefully constructed and decorated, because my emotions were interfering with those around me.
There is fine line between letting go and losing the plot. Sometimes we have to dance to one extreme to know where the boundaries are, but as a (h)edge walker, slipping into one extreme and remaining there for too long is how you lose your edge. Change is here, Yule has passed, and with it, the thawing of my heart. It is time to let the Wild Witch ride for it is has been a bit a lonely in this porcelain cage ..