Dear Lady Yla,
fairy princess of the Pygmy Forest up the Mendocino Coast ;
Earth calls for the patter of your steps to reawaken
Her beating heart;
and for the smudge and scrunch of your toes
in Her wet sand.
it is your own footprints that stir eternal Spring alive
for Her.
While wizards way down under
and deep beneath,
weaving wide mycelial mats that form
galaxies and tributaries
in our Soils
are weary for their Spring massage -Â
so Lady, wherever have you been?
We cannot summon Life without your breath…
There is no ivory tower more welcoming than WE,
no oxygen with a sweeter scent,
no dewdrop whose crystal tendrils wash your eyes
with greater Love;
No force can ever be more potent
to gestation
than the buds
sprouting roots from your own soles;
No medicine She craves more than this:
to have Her thoughts and feelings painted
by the sparkle of joy-filled Lightbeams in your gentle sway.
So take the salt of Earth Herself from the Sacred Sea of Being
and scrub the sweat and
muddy resin from your skin.
Clear the space between your toes
to know The One;
Step now beyond the fortress of your castle walls.
Meet me here, where i wait
for you…