She wears serenity on her brow, soft canvas of un-fear. She gazes skyward, shoulders gentling in their sockets, proverbial wings lifting from their blades. There is a wide open channel between herself and God, and she knows that she alone crafts the objects and experiences that will populate that distance.
Warm hues of lavender, sage and pale blue pulse around the egg-like space that she occupies. She emerges from one nourishing space into another that has yet to take shape as hospitable or hostile. She is not agitated or fearful, because she knows the place takes its form from her mind, from her own intention.
"The universe agrees to every thought you have," she heard someone say, so she thinks up a perfection, a peacefulness that will receive her with grace.
Warm hues of lavender, sage and pale blue pulse around the egg-like space that she occupies. She emerges from one nourishing space into another that has yet to take shape as hospitable or hostile. She is not agitated or fearful, because she knows the place takes its form from her mind, from her own intention.
"The universe agrees to every thought you have," she heard someone say, so she thinks up a perfection, a peacefulness that will receive her with grace.
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