Nothing about you is broken

Nothing about you is broken

"You are the most magical creature," he says.
My brows furrow thoughtfully
and I tilt my head to the left side
as I contemplate his words,
simultaneously strange and alluring.

Then the animal that dwells
invisibly beneath my skin
arches her back,
and stretches out her long limbs
as she wakes from her stunned slumber.

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The wild spirit in me

The wild spirit in me

"Like a true nature's child,
We were born, born to be wild."Mars Bonfire

The wild spirit in me revels in wonder. She experiences magic in every moment, in every breath she feels me inhale, in every thump she feels my heart beat, in every sensation against my skin, in the beauty she witnesses in everyday life. She sees and experiences it all even when I am walking through life a little sleepy or distracted with my eyes down.

The wild spirit in me calls me awake. She summons me to sunsets and to marvel at the muscular trunk of the old gum tree, the tiny grasshopper playing dead on the concrete in front of my feet, the cool sea wrapping its salt around my skin.

The wild spirit in me doesn’t colour inside the lines or outside the lines. She creates her own raw and messy masterpieces then burns them to nothingness. She does not collect things. She has no desire to carry excess baggage with her because all she cares about is the experience of the experience.

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