(the son who died)
(observations of a first trip)
(a letter of exploration)
I write because I have to. Because I am compelled to do so. Because as a child in grade school I discovered that words were magick. That they told stories of far away places and that my teacher could read the letters scrawled across my papers and see that I had written my name. I discovered that writing things was better than speaking things aloud. That it was safer. That words could be powerful even if no one else ever read them. So I write and for all its randomness it sometimes makes sense, sometimes calms, sometimes explains the way of my soul.
In Love & Light,
-Betsy-
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Thoughts On Being Matron |
| Simply Danny (the son who died) |
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| Magickal Threads | |
| New York City (observations of a first trip) |
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| Earth Mother Types | |
| Naked In A Bath Of Air | |
| Soul Mates and Soul Sisters (a letter of exploration) |
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| Email Me |
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