She is awakening...my hunger is awakening...yet again.
She has been dormant, though I did not realize it until recently. I've walked through the fire of this awakening process already, I thought.
I've connected to my sexuality. I've ignited my desire. I've been provocative. I've been aggressive in my sex in the face of a society that seeks to suppress my Feminine liberation of body, soul and spirit.
Been there, done that. I've already rejected societal norms of what conventional monogamy is supposed to look like. I've connected to my power, I've ignited the flame.
But there is more. There is so much more.
The next ring on the spiral. Similar flavor, different palate.
Humbled, yet again.
I am hungry. And my appetite is touching a new depth desire for satiation, where I know frivolous grasping for momentary sweet tooth fixations are not going to give me what I want.
I want more. I want a smoldering of desirous energy in the core of my being that threatens a carnivorous eruption of prolonged passion that could fuel a continent for centuries to come.
My hunger is insatiable, and because of that awareness I realize I must be in command and discernment of the nourishment she receives, and the timing of her meals.
I have already gotten to the place where I know I can have everything. Lack is no longer the concern. Patience and deliberateness however, are my worthy adversaries and teachers.
I am powerful. I can have anything that I want. My desire is a force to be reckoned with. And I have learned that if I am not conscious of the ferocity of my will, men will crumble at my wake.
I am a fawn in the woods, tender and soft to the touch. Simultaneously, I am black widow spider. And if men come into the lair of my carnivorous Feminine without consciousness or intention, my wild nature will eat them alive.
I cannot help it. I am a force of nature. I am an illusion breaker. And if you fall asleep, forgetting who you are or what we are capable of, I will devour the stagnancy that only assumptions and complacency can breed.
Everything changes. Everything dies. Everything burns.
Even as I write this, I wonder where my words will go, knowing that I am chaos, and to try and understand my wild ways will surely lead me to a purgatory of illusion and patriarchal dogma.
I cannot suppress or control the magnitude of my desire. She is a force, and to do anything other than cultivate and approve of her would surely be my and the world's demise.
In releasing control, I choose command. In releasing abstinence, I choose agency. Worthy trades, in my human perspective.
My hunger is alive, growing, cultivating, attuning, to the frequency of nourishment that will provide the most sustainable nectar for my vessel to breed love and joy that spills out like the gushing of my vulva when she is liberated to exude, express and devour without confines or restraint.
Love me, if you dare. Caress me, if you will. My passion is a flame that moths have burned within.
And yet my heart, in the brilliant dance of tenderness, trust, surrender, and total domination, will hold you in a crucible of spiritual embodiment and emotional alchemy that will rub you into a diamond freshly polished from lead.
I am chaos. I am God. And I am imperfect woman with a tender heart, who wants nothing more than to just come home.
May the fires of our soul light the way. For with you, my long-lost friend of Old, I am willing to walk in the dark.