There is a meadow that I know, that I have seen in all its seasons. A young woman is there, as fresh and young as the spring. She runs wild as the wind, her heart light and winged. Through the meadow and fields she runs as the green sprouts of life brush her bare ankles, tickling, teasing with their caress.
She knows the lambs, the calves, the bunnies and the fruits of vine and tree. She grows with them and tastes of their newness. She watches the sun rise and set. She feels the breezes that blow through her hair and settle leaving the memory of their touch.
The rains that fall around her are sometimes harsh and strong and vibrant. Sometimes they are the gentle pulse of a nurturing kiss. In these things she finds challenge.
She grows and learns and knows joy. She knows hope and inspiration and sometimes hurt and fear. For there are things she has yet to know. I know of this, for I know her. Her motions, her thoughts, her heart mirrors mine. I reach for her and she reaches for me. We touch and are one. I am she. I am the Goddess.
Summer has come to the meadow. The land is ripe and lush. The growing plants of the field and meadow brush her wide hips and full belly and she is fertile as well, full of life and potential. She is the peak of fulfillment, the full moon, ripe in all her glory.
She watches the animals and trees grow strong. She forgets not the ones who have gone before and watches over those yet to come. That is her purpose. The sun still rises and sets over her meadow. the wind still blows. The rain still falls. In these things she finds peace.
She learns which signs herald harsh winds and which herald soft breezes. she learns that as the gentle rains nurture life, so do the strong storms
make room for the new growth.
She grows and learns and knows joy. She knows hope and inspiration and still hurt and fear. For there are things that she still does not know. Yet, she has learned that anger and fear and even hope and joy have their place and their purpose. She has taught me this and I have learned with her for we are one. I am she. I am the Goddess.
Fall has come to the meadow. The land prepares to sleep. the sheep, the cows, the rabbits now are passing. The fruit of the vine and the tree have long passed into sustenance. The green becomes a vibrant cacophony of reds, oranges, yellows, and browns.
She sits in serene joy in the meadow and field. She watches the younger ones frolick. In their laughter, she too is young and she too has joy. The sun still rises and sets over the meadow, but the days feel to pass so quickly. She worries that she has not enough time. The wind still blows. The rains still fall and in these things, she finds hope.
As the winter grows dark, so must the spring come again. the struggle and the joy must begin again. Death will bring new life, a legacy that will be reborn and bloom once again. the same will be for her, for she is one with all. I am she. I am Goddess.
As the year turns, so does a lifetime, a circle within a circle.