Once again I begin again. All will be revealed in time. So many feels, so deep and wide and true, though not to be explained. Not yet. Everyone's going through ch-ch-ch-ch-changes. Texts from old friends and older friends and wisps of stories coming through where I can almost touch them.
Who is Dunmore Throop? One day, I may just tell you.
I spent nearly the entire day up here on Flame Shift #76. I did my work and I did it well. She was as present as you would expect. When I got tired, She woke me. When I needed to shift my focus, She let me know. Magickal timing was more important than ever. She's preparing me, that crafty Lady.
I know it's not time to return to my poetry just yet. But god, how I want to.
This is a history, this journal. Of who I am, and was, and might be, depending on when you read it. What we watched, or how far we walked, or how clean the house is or how warm the weather is doesn't matter so much. It's about what I felt / feel / will feel. That's the only kind of history I care about.
And I just don't know how I feel right now.
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