Child

My inner child is a spark and a giggle and a beam. My inner child is filled with the purity of the joy of simply just being. She feels of silliness and smiles and honesty. She feels natural and energetic. She feels like the pulse of the Maiden earth. She is my truth, once slightly lost, but unforgotten, and in her memory, she is reclaimable, and she is now, and she is forever. My inner child is the spark of fire, the running of water, flowing and bubbling and running everywhere. She is the pounding rhythm of the earth, the Mother, as she runs insides me … as they both do. She is the quick, strength of a gust of wind unfurling a lazy day. She is the rapture of my spirit, and my heartes’ delight. I find her in the Irish fiddle, the wind chimes and waterfalls of Japan. She lives within all I love, for it is there I find her. She dwells in the scent of candles and taste of cinnamon. She exists in the art of fae and in the feel of Pino’s stomach fur and Sally's sweet face. She is cute.

Brightly-spun blessings,
Lady Faemore