I burst forth upon the page. I dance, I sing, I move with the Energy. I feel it!
I kick off my shoes and smile. I know what to do.
“I want green,” I say. And Ireland that melts into the Fae the faster and farther I run. And with this I explode, creating as I run, dragging trails of green and imagination behind me. The gifting, gratitude, the love. I feel it all coursing through me and I accept it.
It flows through me, riding on the wings of Imagination as I use it to shape the worlds I build. And in the center of it all? Love.
I leap, letting my gown trail behind me and I step and leap, jumping from energy and frequency, word spells and dreams. The moonlight catches me and I fly.
Dancing with the Energy, letting my love for my Imp King to carry me. Like this, I draw, I paint, I use my Imagination to bring to life the dreams all trapped in my head. This is freedom.
I come to a stream mid-air and I pause. A white gown drips from my shoulders and I hoist up my skirts. My bare legs, glisten with the water that I kick up to splash onto me.
Wings, I feel and they burst forth from my back like a rope of luminescent dreams.
And just like that I’m free as the music courses through me. What words did I say to him that freed me?
“Bergen!” I call across the Ethereal and he is there, suddenly, before me.
“Hello, lass,” he says grinning and I laugh and lunge.
I jump into his arms and he catches me.
“There you are, love,” he says and holds me tight. “Heal, lass. Grow and Run.”
“My Imp King,” I say and I waste no time. To him, I run, and I leap into his world.
“Imp!” I shout, filled with play and glee. With him I’m a child again. A nymph free at last to paint the worlds I see upon the pages.
What dreams that come to me. The emotional flow as the Energy fills me like paint medium within like a pallet at my whimsical disposal. I can shift and dance my words and mind, painting worlds across the pages for people to walk into and explore. This is Authorship… The Authority of Art.
To shape and create free of the restrictions of “should” and “shouldn’t” and enslavement that breaks us down into the submission of Hierarchy, Expectations, and Glass Ceilings or Boxed Conformed “traditions” that strip each of us further away from our natural freedom to draw, imagine, and paint with dreams.
I settled myself on the curvature of the crescent moon and gazed down upon the world of purples and blues all streaked with silver moonlight. Bergen came to sit quietly beside me as I gazed upon my world.
“This is the world I grew up in, was beaten for, had taken away from me. This is the world I knew was there. Had fought so hard to get back to. And I was its creator. The playful Nymph and Goddess of Imagination and Story that I craved to be again. But I lived as a fraction. I think… we all do. That is the world of the Material Plane. The words in our society that were crafted to cage us. That world was never made for me. It broke me. It broke my mind to make me fit. But I couldn’t fit. I never fit.”
I looked at Bergen.
“I’m free now.”
“Aye, lass.” He nodded. “You are.”
I stood, my gown dripping down once more. Barefoot, I stood up on tip toe, outstretched my wings with my arms, and dove. Back to dancing on moonbeams and dreams, suspended in flight by my imagination.
My Power was still so very young. I knew it had much more healing and growing ahead of me. And I am so very excited to get started.
