Bewildered

Chrysa didn’t understand why she was there at the gala ball.

She was a budding creative (in her own eyes, untried) compared to the others present who’s works were either published, or they were known for their various proven talents.

It’s not that she didn’t feel she belonged, but that she hadn’t met anyone like her.

Those there seemed to have climbed their ladders linearly, whereas her path had been an organic process of just “becoming.”

She was the earth that had nourished the seed. She was the rain’s waters that replenished.

She was the “tree” she was becoming. She was a “shapeshifter,” like no other.

There’s a type of etherium which is drawn to energetic frequencies – and the blood in her veins called to it.

She wasn’t sure what this meant, only that as she continued working on her own self mastery, more began arriving.

How can one be a vessel without knowing one’s purpose?

How can one be powerful, without that power defined?

And she had this inclination, which she was now beginning to consider as a major flaw.

She was a Romantic – beginning to judge herself as an “addict,” because the quest to find her soul’s mate was still stretching so long.

“Am I my soul – or just merely its host?” she wondered with a twinge of discomfort.

“Why am I so driven to find Him? Is it just the force of evolution driving my hormones to bring forth our next generations?”

She looked around the room from the balcony above, surveying the interactions of the attendees from a safe distance.

“What do these people have in common with me?” she thought, not meaning to sound to herself so disparaging.

She should be happy at having been invited – look at the wonderful play of gaiety and revelry!

But, her heart felt hollow and the world around her paled in comparison to what she knew Love could bring.