‘I get that on a spiritual level it’s about all of us becoming kings and queens […] the timing is kind of exquisite […] there’s something really beautiful about the whole thing’ – Marianne Williamson, Instagram Live, 8^th September 2022

I dreamt

that I stood

on the sandstones

by the lakeside,

the water

livelong green;

the Avalonian

mother mists seemed

to swirl and

beckon,

dimming the

sun gently,

muting the noise

creating a vista

warmed and serene.

And the mists

felt like old

friends, old

veils of

thresholds then

and now.

I felt such

joy to behold

them,

such gratitude

that I could see,

that I could receive

their whispers

of richness,

and I have felt

settled in me

ever since.

I danced back

along the path

breathing into

the fruitful

and although

outside the

dream world

we have sat

through

charged humidity,

were drenched

and sodden in

storms

and initiated

collectively,

I feel a sacred call

for celebration.

As sombre as

the skies are grey, yet –

we are in a

Mystery;

and its pulsation,

as clear as mist,

hums with vitality,

with our regality.

The inching

breathless question:

will we claim it?

For it is,

electrically,

ours.

Featured image by Jen Buckley Art