Category: Myths & Legends

To not pursue seemed the only way
To break the ever-repeating cycle…

She could have become his grand passion,
Yet he kept turning away from opportunity.

She wasn’t certain why it had happened with him – only that it had, even though her mechanism was very selective.

(Tales from The Underground)

It was never enough, and she wondered if it ever could be.

The lovable rogue is often from a working-class upbringing, who tends to recklessly defy social norms and social conventions, but who still evokes empathy.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lovable_rogue#:~:text=The%20lovable%20rogue%20is%20a,the%20audience%20or%20other%20characters.

Women who play nice in life’s sandbox, but something deep inside of them craves to go outside the box to live the life they want and not the one society or media says they should live.

https://www.rogueexperiences.com/2016/05/what-does-it-mean-to-be-rogue/#:~:text=These%20are%20the%20women%20who,rogue%20or%20a%20rogue%20woman.

One man stood apart from the crowd

And encouraged her.

But a diamond in the rough.

This and that premise presented,
But not yet endurant congruency.

There was always something gratifying about providing for her dragonlets and watching them happily feed.

“I didn’t make it this far by being a spiritual pushover.”

Helping to elevate others is something I know how to do.

What I do not know is how to attract an elevated relationship.

I discovered yesterday that something of great importance is still active.

Something that should not be rejected without first finalizing process to explore it.

But the fact that this door has been uncovered again after I thought it had been sealed and buried reopens infected wounds.

Will fresh bleeding cleanse so that souls may heal to be whole again?

Where light was smothered to yield to darkness, I am called to redeem once investments.

What is the price for it?

What is sacrificed for the gain?

And what is gained for the sacrifice?

The loss of certain values, in favor of others.

(Title and concept play with words)

I keep trying…

Even when filled with fear.

My life has got to be – yet, with inclusitivity.

It does not discriminate regarding genetics, culture, economics, and/or age differences.

Having been driven deep into her core by the pain of fresh circumstances, she could not fathom letting a man ever get close to her again.

What she could not define was whether she had always felt this way and had just behaved as if it did not matter, or if this waa a new level to further affect her future.

Medication infuriated her spirit and affected as if she were a wild horse being put under yoke and metal bit.

The primal reacts when being subjected to further supression.

The female body is sensitively designed to respond immediately to changes in chemicals.

I had been looking for a way through, into the realm of my own passionate expression again.

I did not “need” the accident to propel me – but I know how to turn disaster into new opportunity.

Trapped within another’s nightmare,
The heroine was branded the villain

Because her light exposed such darkness
As an identity fought for its own freedom.

(Title play with words)

The womb is a remnant of Eden, whereby creation may yet continue.

Last night, there was a homeless man next to his shopping cart of belongings on the edge of a major chain store, just minding his own business.

I had to go near him to return my small cart, and since I was there, thought, “Heck with it.”

I turned toward him, made eye contact, and setlled back, leaning against the wall to face him with my hands in my pockets to keep them warm.

“So what’s your story?” I asked him curiously. “Why are you out here?”

Thus ensued a two-hour conversation of us relating to tall tales of desperation; laughing at the narrow escapes; and connecting over music.

He was a decent-looking fellow and kept himself well taken care of, which was what had prompted me to ask about his story.

Early on, he asked me if I would mind giving him a hug, as he said he hadn’t had one in a while.

Normally, I would have hesitated, but had decided to grant him his request.

He was a good hugger.

It felt right and natural to do so.

Safe.

Neutral.

Respectful.

He was a gentleman.

Completely unassuming

His spirit was there, solid and present.

And he smelled good – which surprised me.

I think he must have had some cologne on!

Dang.

Later as we said goodbye, I offered him another hug in parting.

The sensations were the same.

The scent on my jacket lingered and enveloped me on my way home, and I snuggled into it, allowing myself to soak it in – and giggled at my sillyness.

For in the end, he was just a man and I was just a woman.

And it felt good to be appreciated.

She had come to the end of what she could give to the world.

No good intentions nor best wishes, no smile given nor cheery word hailed could further hide.

If she did not fully embrace her core truths and develop her own dreams to fruition, she would expire.

She had been a caregiving advocate for others for so long that with the further injuries increasing neural overload, she could not fathom having a relationship with a partner again.

As it was, she could barely wedge back the psychic bombardment coming from people all around in order to think straight.

How was she supposed to find balance if sharing intimacy with a lifemate?

And then, at this point, who would want to give her the frequent reassurance she would need in order to trust and believe in someone again?

Maybe it was better to just continue to self isolate.

Mystical, whimsical, lyrical.

She knew that when they threatened her it was because they lacked skills and understanding.

But that did not stop the pain from hurting.

“Stop It! Let Go Of Me!” She struggled to break free of their insinuitive, grasping influences. “I just want my own power – at nobody else’s expense!”

“Who are you?” he asked of her, mildly flustered,

“I am ‘love that finds a way.’ And I’ve found you.”

“It’s fine. I’ll get over it. I always do!” she valiantly decreed.

“No you won’t,” he chided softly from those warm tambor depths

” I know I won’t…I never do.”

(Title play with words.)

The dreams of him loving her had been about the person he had portrayed and those soul qualities.

To save her heart from further pain, she needed to avoid knowing what the real man was doing.

“I see what you are doing!

Even though I am cloaked in sanctity – you thought you’d be my undoing!”

Many people would jump at the chance to become famous – at least in portayal of their legacy.

But if asked, some true creatives living closest to and tending to their own source would disagree – especially if no permission was asked for nor given.

“Do not use me as some other girl’s portrayal of womanly character!

I have fought hard to win my own authenticity.

No one else gets to take the credit!”

She didn’t often pray to God nor ask for “angelic assistance.”

No, she was much more determined and innovative than this!

But, she did often ask for postive guidance from the universal elements

I guess in New Age terms, this could by default include “spirit and master guides,” as well as “animal familiars” and nature’s energies.

All of which could also include God and the angels.

Meanwhile, her crystal minerals gave her a sense of stability when psychic bombardment became overpowering.

Yet, she was not interested in “sacred rituals” beyond the very simple perceived necessities if something in the air seemed negative or life seemed to become too imbalanced.

And, it is always good to reinforce sense of self protection and to refocus one’s intentions.

Yeah…

She was more of the tenacity that clings to the belief that a twig fallen off from a tree should have its own right to root, sprout, and propagate its seeds for reforesting depleted biomes.

She decided to faze out the part of her life that she could no longer attend to.

When she had returned to elementary school after summer, rumors had spread there about her, as well, from the well-to-do families.

The teachers treated her with abruptness and cruelty, and she was often terrorized by the bathroom-stalking bullies.

With abuse also happening in her home while mother was away, it was with a thin grip that she held onto nature’s beauty.

Before it became safe to expose generation’s atrocities, she happened upon what some of the adults were doing with the younger children.

Trying to help her peers got her outcast from community circles where they called her a liar and “wicked.”

The kids were warned she was pariah, and once-friends called her names at her passing.

Her grandparents fought being ostracized while her grandfather negotiated to keep his job and position.

She knew she had been right to protect the other young ones, but paid dearly for illumination.

She was pressured to say publicly she had made a mistake – yet instead accepted isolation as punishment.

It seemed that from the beginning, she was ever searching for love.

Where there have become broken places, instinct seeks healing.

She had bartered her life for his, but at too great of a price.

She was battered and bruised
With wings crimping-spasmed.

Would the others of her kind
Still acknowledge her as kin?

She had only yet experienced
At best, haughty indifference.