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Painting The Feminine :: I Am Complete

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I came to painting the Feminine in hope for a road map.  A guidebook.
Anything with a hint of direction of what I should do next in my life.

Instead I found a story.  One that’s been locked away and ignored for ages.  Maybe even life times.

A narrative so raw and delicate–
That it reminds me of an apogee or a peasant’s dream.

I wish I could tell you that painting healed me.  That it cured the sting of being awake.

But all it’s really done is showed me the places inside myself
that are so desperately craving my own love and attention.
That are leaking energy.  That are pockets of forgotten suffering.

It’s in these places I’ve met her so gracefully.
Her.  The Feminine.

The great energy that is Mother, Divine, Joy, and Sadness dressed so exquisitely in speckled tree branches, babies’ teeth, whispers of ecstasy, birds in migration, and the roughness of aged flesh.

She arrived not to guide me or show me the way
But to embody me. Use me.
To fill me with the richest of pleasures.
So she could strip me bare with her sharp steel claws.
And now when I am asleep she pours the deepest of wisdom
Into my heart that she prys open with just the force of her breath.

She loves me.  She is me.  I am the Feminine.

And I am complete.

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