Otherworldly

Watching curling smoke trail from burning incense always touches that which is Otherworldly in me. Twisting and drifting outside of time, the wisps of smoke mesmerize me, hold my gaze. Disappearing on the wind, lingering scents speaking ancient incantations.

I want to cultivate more of this sort of mystery-unfolding-languid-unfurling enchantment in my life; I want to walk with all the power of the Otherworld in each footstep. I want the fine hairs on peoples’ arms to raise with electricity when I enter a space; I want others to stare and whisper amongst themselves, “Surely that woman must be fae.”

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
— Pablo Neruda

I want to hone my Otherworldly nature like the edge of a fine, sharp blade; let this fearsome instrument serve me now, no more dulling it down until rust claims it. I’ve had my breakdowns. A lifetime spent learning, yearning, growing, surviving. But now it is my power time, my queen time, the cycle of my legacy. I have arrived. And I am aruthredd: the threshold between fear and amazement.

Now I know exactly how I will put the pieces of my Self back together again—crafting myself into something even more magical, mythical, powerful and strange.

Now I walk with all the beauty and danger of the Otherworld.

With love,
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Featured photo credit: Daniela Mackova via Pixabay.