Opened by the Divine

In the hush between darkness and dawn, I step into the unseen.

Black Tara, silent and vast, waits where the threshold hums with knowing.

I kneel in the space she has made, where endings unravel like thread, where what was clings, then falls. Her breath is wind, her gaze is stillness, and in the stillness, I break open.

"Black Tara, guardian of the in-between, let your night wrap around me. Unravel what binds, unmake what is false. Hold me steady as I empty."

Ashes swirl in the dark. The old names, the old weight, finding their way to rest. I rise lighter, thinner, taller, more bare.

Through the thinning veil, Isis moves in gold and quiet fire. She is within and beyond, heartbeat and sky.

She presses her hand to my chest, and my ribs become temple doors. I do not bow—I open.

"Isis, mother, keeper of mysteries, breathe your knowing into my bones. Make me vessel, make me flame, and let me remember."

And she places a gift where my heart beats raw— a whisper, a symbol, a seed. Something only I will know.

I leave with the weight of it, the pull of it, the knowing of it. Carrying her inside me as I step back into the night.

And still, the river flows. Golden, quiet, carving through me, shaping the path I have yet to walk. The future unfolds like water over stone, and I, softened, shaped, surrendered, step forward, listening.

© Fayenen, March 2025. All rights reserved.