The Furnace Within

The cold water slides down my body, chilling me from the outside, teaching me I’m a furnace within.

Delighted on Aisle Four

Today I am animal-holy.

Intentional and slow is best.

I gather healing to myself— soul sustenance. Gratitude for growth, for learning.

I took the moth, and I took him up into me— and learned to carry them carefully: the final wand, the torch that’s now mine to hold.

Don’t let this dull your tenderness. You still deserve love returned.

Bark peeled back, cedar shelter overhead— a child’s secret fort of summer heat and sweet earth, where innocence meets curiosity.

A child’s prayer grows into touch, healing, and freedom— until the heart shatters into a hail of sparks, wings untethered, cageless.

The unknown holds me; I see with more than eyes.

If I don’t express my pain, it turns into shame—hidden under scars that never quite heal but enslave me.