Lord of the Winter snow; lead and I shall follow...
To bear your soul
Is to really know
When to hold back;
When to let go...
-original poem so far as I'm aware.
----
He's gentle, He's fierce, He's ruthless, yet not unkind. Yet people fear Him as if he were the Devil himself; Some think he truly is. I...I for one, never once have; and never shall. . . He is much too dear to me to do this, and shall ever be.
But His kindness comes in ways no one would expect,except for others who have him as their sworn one.
His name-or whichever one He would choose to give-is unimportant, but His list of things I must do, and lessons to be learned, are.
Others say we're crazy, insane, other things, those of us who are own by our gods, by spirits. Those who follow things most others cannot see. Follow instincts and visions most would not dare to touch or grasp...nor to even dream about. Those who sense things others can only dream-and think impossible-of.
You see, those of us who follow this path? Our lives are not wholly our own. We dance to whatever dog and pony (Or wolf and horse, as the case may be) show they put us to, get embroiled in politics we may not like nor trust. ...and then we have to trust Them to get us out,and do so in one piece.
We give Them promises that we might not be able to keep, and if we fail Them, They punish us, take it out of our metaphorical hides, or strip us of abilities for a time. Abilities that could sorely be useful had we not bungled things-fucked them up by some manner or other. Many times They test us,and other times they reward us for jobs well done; and those tasks may be as simple as learning to groundd, center and shield to Their satisfaction, or as complex as finding your way through some dream-stated maze They've built, just to confuse the fuck out of you.
But being owned? Being sworn? It means we're protected-housed in the love, companionship and trust of the ones we swear to. It means we can trust them to not give us more than we can handle-and to listen to us (most of the time anyway) when we say enough is a fucking bloody nuff. We come to both love and loathe the ones who own us; we want to alternately kill them, and find ways to give Them what They need, whatever that need may be.
I knew,before I changed from girlhood to adult,I knew before I was aware,that I was one. A godsworn priestess, friend, confidant, to one-and to more than one, perhaps-before I even knew what paganism, or hell, even wicca, was. Before I was barely aware of the world outside my house and my mind.
His presence, His voice-"Curb your tongue!"-rang in my ears, my mind, my soul-and throughout my life I now see evidence of His work for me, finding my place, becoming mor assertive, not being afraid of those assertions, getting past feeling like a bitch for them. Finding my limits and sticking with them, even when it pissed others off and drove them away.
We have our share of the crazies...those who snap under the pressure; half of those owned don't make it through lives, but I'd like to think most of us do. . . and I among those, one who can function, hold down a job, and keep my head above water. If only just...if only by the skin of my teeth.
----
This is my home game submission for therealljidol topic: Am I crazy? Thank you for reading. :)
Is to really know
When to hold back;
When to let go...
-original poem so far as I'm aware.
----
He's gentle, He's fierce, He's ruthless, yet not unkind. Yet people fear Him as if he were the Devil himself; Some think he truly is. I...I for one, never once have; and never shall. . . He is much too dear to me to do this, and shall ever be.
But His kindness comes in ways no one would expect,except for others who have him as their sworn one.
His name-or whichever one He would choose to give-is unimportant, but His list of things I must do, and lessons to be learned, are.
Others say we're crazy, insane, other things, those of us who are own by our gods, by spirits. Those who follow things most others cannot see. Follow instincts and visions most would not dare to touch or grasp...nor to even dream about. Those who sense things others can only dream-and think impossible-of.
You see, those of us who follow this path? Our lives are not wholly our own. We dance to whatever dog and pony (Or wolf and horse, as the case may be) show they put us to, get embroiled in politics we may not like nor trust. ...and then we have to trust Them to get us out,and do so in one piece.
We give Them promises that we might not be able to keep, and if we fail Them, They punish us, take it out of our metaphorical hides, or strip us of abilities for a time. Abilities that could sorely be useful had we not bungled things-fucked them up by some manner or other. Many times They test us,and other times they reward us for jobs well done; and those tasks may be as simple as learning to groundd, center and shield to Their satisfaction, or as complex as finding your way through some dream-stated maze They've built, just to confuse the fuck out of you.
But being owned? Being sworn? It means we're protected-housed in the love, companionship and trust of the ones we swear to. It means we can trust them to not give us more than we can handle-and to listen to us (most of the time anyway) when we say enough is a fucking bloody nuff. We come to both love and loathe the ones who own us; we want to alternately kill them, and find ways to give Them what They need, whatever that need may be.
I knew,before I changed from girlhood to adult,I knew before I was aware,that I was one. A godsworn priestess, friend, confidant, to one-and to more than one, perhaps-before I even knew what paganism, or hell, even wicca, was. Before I was barely aware of the world outside my house and my mind.
His presence, His voice-"Curb your tongue!"-rang in my ears, my mind, my soul-and throughout my life I now see evidence of His work for me, finding my place, becoming mor assertive, not being afraid of those assertions, getting past feeling like a bitch for them. Finding my limits and sticking with them, even when it pissed others off and drove them away.
We have our share of the crazies...those who snap under the pressure; half of those owned don't make it through lives, but I'd like to think most of us do. . . and I among those, one who can function, hold down a job, and keep my head above water. If only just...if only by the skin of my teeth.
----
This is my home game submission for therealljidol topic: Am I crazy? Thank you for reading. :)