You, My Friend
Skriven: 27 april 2025
A Whisper from Wicced Visions
You, my friend, are not fixed.
You are not forever this shape.
You come from what once was—
from the roots that split stone,
from the tides that sculpted silence.
Your breath— that breath—
once came through your ancestor’s lungs,
was carried into this sphere from the stars out there.
Across time that cannot be counted,
through bones and dust that cannot be touched,
you settled here, for this instance—
called by the memory of memories,
passing again through you.
Your body now put together with all the borrowed bits:
iron from the soil,
salt from the sea,
fire from a thousand skies.
And still— you are becoming.
You are not the first to carry this form,
and far from the last.
Care for it gently.
Love it for what it once was.
Honor what it has become.
Let the ancient energy hold you together.
Trust in your own true self.
You are not meant to hold it all together.
You are meant to become.