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She was born of many women, birthed from the great silence of the void. She did not know her own secrets until they exploded like a volcano from within her and spewed out their truths with the force of a thousand fire balls. And they burned as they came. Hot, needing, sharp, pleading. She tried to grasp a hold of them as they flew, desperately trying to find something solid in amongst the flames. But you cannot hold fire any more than you can grip onto water. Some things are not meant to be held. And so with scalded hands she surrendered and instead of fighting the fire she flowed with it, letting it consume her from the inside out and beyond. It burned with a ferocity she had never known. Yet the colours, the patterns, the rhythms, the sounds, the feeling… It was oh so familiar. It felt known somehow. She stood within the fire and felt her spirit rise. She was transformed like the phoenix and arose with the dragon at her back. And then she stood amongst the fire, the heat of it powering her glorious heart smile, and she glowed. For she knew then.
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