I am a witch.
rocks, wind, streams, animals are my brothers. In them you complete my life. In them there is the divine spark that drives my spirit. I recognize the trees as my refuge, my fortress like. Every time I cry to them to dry my tears with a slight touch of the heart. Their trunks are my support when they are tired, their sap is the symbol of the continuous flow of renewal, on me and my skin. They are my soul shack, where I take refuge every time the rain falls too hard and the wind blows the leaves away from the path.
I am a witch.
acknowledge a God and a Goddess, in them my life, my life for them. I do not know their names because they are accustomed to call them all names in the world. They always respond, even though my voice is only a whisper, a sigh. They my lips, them my heart. I teach infinite love and abandonment to the blaze I feel inside everyday existence. I give fear and doubt, because I can ask myself and find the answers. I give the pain and suffering so that I may grow in the arduous journey of life, learning the lesson that I will post. I give imagination and eclecticism that I may love myself every day, changing shape, changing mood, being a woman.
I am a witch.
Celebrate the changing seasons. Through the years the mother holding the hand of the various pathways of light, ice, blood and dew. I honor the renewal of life, the beginning of growth, regeneration of shoots, love and passion, the first blond crop, fruit set, the last harvest of orange, and the end of the passage. The seasons are placed on my skin like organza, giving their strong odor in my nostrils, their flavors on my tongue, their colors in my eyes. Thousand and thousands of treasures yet revealed to me. I am a
witch.
I worship the moon. I see myself on her, she is a mother, sister and lover. She is an advisor, torment and breath of old. She follows my cycle, she influences the tides my, she is the master of my femininity. I am a priestess, wearing his white coat and fickle, those of my cheeks ruddy wine, when his face becomes round. I am a girl who is in his cot when he returns clove young me and turns to the west. They are the elderly in rest when she begins to fade to the east. They are the darkest night that welcomes black and proud when he stops to light up the sky and his daughters.
I am a witch.
I learned to love. I taught myself harmony, researchers as a destination prohibited. I learned that whatever gift, turns in my life received. I learned that the evil I do, it turns into pain I'll have to serve. I learned to get up and make mistakes. I learned that every drop of my blood cries out a hymn to life, because I am, because I love. Why I'm a witch.
rocks, wind, streams, animals are my brothers. In them you complete my life. In them there is the divine spark that drives my spirit. I recognize the trees as my refuge, my fortress like. Every time I cry to them to dry my tears with a slight touch of the heart. Their trunks are my support when they are tired, their sap is the symbol of the continuous flow of renewal, on me and my skin. They are my soul shack, where I take refuge every time the rain falls too hard and the wind blows the leaves away from the path.
I am a witch.
acknowledge a God and a Goddess, in them my life, my life for them. I do not know their names because they are accustomed to call them all names in the world. They always respond, even though my voice is only a whisper, a sigh. They my lips, them my heart. I teach infinite love and abandonment to the blaze I feel inside everyday existence. I give fear and doubt, because I can ask myself and find the answers. I give the pain and suffering so that I may grow in the arduous journey of life, learning the lesson that I will post. I give imagination and eclecticism that I may love myself every day, changing shape, changing mood, being a woman.
I am a witch.
Celebrate the changing seasons. Through the years the mother holding the hand of the various pathways of light, ice, blood and dew. I honor the renewal of life, the beginning of growth, regeneration of shoots, love and passion, the first blond crop, fruit set, the last harvest of orange, and the end of the passage. The seasons are placed on my skin like organza, giving their strong odor in my nostrils, their flavors on my tongue, their colors in my eyes. Thousand and thousands of treasures yet revealed to me. I am a
witch.
I worship the moon. I see myself on her, she is a mother, sister and lover. She is an advisor, torment and breath of old. She follows my cycle, she influences the tides my, she is the master of my femininity. I am a priestess, wearing his white coat and fickle, those of my cheeks ruddy wine, when his face becomes round. I am a girl who is in his cot when he returns clove young me and turns to the west. They are the elderly in rest when she begins to fade to the east. They are the darkest night that welcomes black and proud when he stops to light up the sky and his daughters.
I am a witch.
I learned to love. I taught myself harmony, researchers as a destination prohibited. I learned that whatever gift, turns in my life received. I learned that the evil I do, it turns into pain I'll have to serve. I learned to get up and make mistakes. I learned that every drop of my blood cries out a hymn to life, because I am, because I love. Why I'm a witch.
Morgana.
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