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Chronicles Of The Crescent Kin.

Some nights, your feet are the only things that keep you on this earth.

That moon sister beckons for you to come play in her dream world, and you have to reluctantly remind her that you belong to Mother Earth. She is always jealous at first, but so nobly reverent of the giant that she revolves around, so she bows her head.

When she arises again, she smiles with a sense of sass, then leans in close, whispering, “Since I cannot have you all of the time, then when you are awake, I will remind you of my depths when your eyes drink in the shapeless expansiveness of the ocean. I will kiss you with its spindrift.

I will play with you in its crescents, as I taught them how to curl in my likeness. I will caress you when you let your body float out past where those waves churn. I will whisper to you in the wind when it’s strong and curling trees to the earth, and when it whirls around you in whimsical wisps.

I will send my waves of energy through the kisses of all creatures that I blessed at birth.

You will know them by the colors of their eyes — deep grays like those that shade my face, emeralds and the color of leaves in their fresh Spring buds, and anything in between vibrant green and the colors of the sea. You will find the others that I have blessed to be my brethren on late nights, in circumstances that transcend time.

You know they are your kindred not from the color of their eyes, but from the tones of their hearts, which are dressed in mystique. The paradigms of their minds will match mine and yours, as they, too, will be charmed by a presence that is just mad enough to be brilliant. They will feel the arts like you do.

They get lost in other worlds in the arms of a song, or in a late night in the bosom of spontaneous need to express. They dance like you, as I have taught you both to sway and swoon and swirl, flowing in and out of the rhythms of the world, taking them on as your own heartbeats.

You and your kindred move in your own way, connected to the undercurrents that match the movement of me.

This is how you will know me in the waking world when you walk the earth. When you sleep though, I will find you in your dreams, and then together we will dance in reverie, laughing and lounging and living in the other realms.”

She sighs, and the wind blows your hair in a warm whirlwind as she continues, “My dear, my darling, remember where to find me, and I will bless you with a breath and behavior that bears my charisma, my magic, my charm.

I will entrance and enhance you with my incubus, my divination, and all that love will be allured by your alchemy.”

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Rebekah Kolbe, aka The Moonchilde to her equally eccentric friends, is a writer and newb Yoga teacher in the Michiana area in passionate cultivation of a consciously loving and creative lifestyle. When she isn’t writing sassy and sappy personal essays or exploring esoteric psychology, adoring her loved ones, practicing Yoga, cooking, making music, or walking in the woods, she is working for the creatively philanthropic company called MudLOVE. To get connected to more of her musings, go here.

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