A new wind is rushing in.
I feel the calling arise with me.
Demanding, for movement to become possible within the collective DNA.
I feel a shift rising within me.
The supernatural wind of Spirit.
Ready to blow down generations of oppression.
Once understood to be a necessary punishment,
Now realized by those with eyes open wide,
To be the unlawful chastisement of individuation realized.
Propagated by the tread of failures all one’s own.
Eyes sewn shut,
A refusal to acknowledge the mirror image of reflection.
The fiery furnace of unrenounced karmic attachment,
Looming over the epigenetics of the unborn.
A shooting pain unrenownced to blinded generations,
Yet to embody in human form.
Aggrandized DNA clutter,
I realize the unintended destruction and suffering carried forward.
A consequence of unsurrendered ego,
Choosing to live in the antithesis of miss-direction of ones calling.
In rebellious infidelity,
Distance to one’s Creator replaces Union,
The elevation of self becomes paramount.
Entropy into darkness inclines one’s endpoint.
With the Great, I AM out of reach.
Fragility becomes their confidant,
The inability to receive one’s inheritance from Grace.
Unwilling to receive the divine gifts,
Blessings in the form of teaching through opportunities of growth are rejected.
Invitations from an unknown traveler; Me.
A rescuer in disguise,
I hold the keys to storehouses filled with the treasure of wealth and knowledge,
But I am unwelcome.
And just like that.
The power to transmute darkness,
Can be abruptly silenced to the void of dreams deferred.
Masquerading as paramount masculinity,
Become the antithesis to our salvation.
While the divine feminine is patiently waiting for the chance to be integrated within.
Wounds of abandonment;
The scars of childhood,
imprint on a labyrinth of barriers guarding the soul.
Divine support adequately in reach,
Yet the fear of death to self,
Becomes the intimidation of the rejection Truth.
Divine movements of love,
Awaiting the invitation for healing to begin.
If inhibition remains,
I fear the cycle will repeat again.
Copyright © 2017 – By Imani Nia Rutledge