eternitarian
“Lend me your heart love, just for a day, and I promise... I won’t let it stray…”
The Aftershock.
The girl woke up with her wings stuck to her backside. Her legs were bare and sticky, her torso covered only by a cropped grey top. She'd cut holes in the back of her shirts to accommodate the new limbs of her person. The girl hadn't fully committed to the forewings and had refused to purchase garments to house the change of her being.
She'd slept in the white and green sheets striped like peppermint candies. The colors were sharper in the aftershock; her hands were not hers. They reached out to touch the complexities birthed by the universe. Her hindwings fluttered lightly; suspicion has a particular flavor, and she tasted burnt toast on her tongue.
Outwardly, she rolled as oil in a warm pan. Inwardly, she sparkled as the stars tossed into the stormy atmosphere. Her lesson was to learn the light, and as her body brightened to the contrast, she took the flame from the center and placed it in each palm.
The girl shook her head, shattering doubt. Her guides whispered in the pink shells: you must create beauty from the edges of the shadow where light and dark come into contact. The contradiction shapes refinement—choice and unpredictability; loss and prosperity; disguised and unveiled. Layer upon layer, we appear as the One Experience.
Someone grabbed a handful of pebbles and polished them with the Great Mother's Tears. She blinded Herself so we could see by the night's sky.
Photo source.
