She is the one who

She is the one who lives a never ending dream of becoming.

She is the one who (over and over and over again) has turned nothing into something,

A Phoenix does not rise overnight.

She must sit and sort through the ashes,

Engulfed not only by the flames but by the scorching heat of the coals.

Only then, after being completely transformed,

Will she take flight.

She is the one who laughs in the face of the one who tells me no.

She is the one who sets fire to what cannot grow,

over and over again.

Dancing and weaving, unfolding and breathing,

Resting in the lap of the mother.

All that you are is welcome here.

She descends into the depths of her soul,

Deep inside where no one knows,

She returns with gifts of gold,

To lay them at the threshold of the unknown.

She breaks free from the stories who hold her back,

The stories that keep her from expressing her light.

She spirals in and weaves her way out,

Dancing with shadows,

Meeting herself again and again,

Gathering wisdom.

Tending to wounds.

Listening deeply.

Pulse.

Source.

Return.

Repeat.

She is the one who lives a never ending dream of becoming.

She is the one who (over and over and over again) has turned nothing into something,

A Phoenix does not rise overnight.

Jessica Durivage