"It is in the act of offering that light is born."
terri st. cloud
The dark figure had lost her light and could no longer remember where she was or where she had been. Sharp red hot wires surged throughout her body as though she were being electrified. There was no longer a sense of life or death ... every emotion had violently been flushed away.
An earth angel observed the dark figure, but was not afraid. She felt compelled to move closer and share her abundance of light. She began to visualize pouring sacred golden light into the top of this black shape. She kept pouring allowing the liquid to course down the neck to shoulders releasing down to the arms. As the fingers dripped gold, the healing light continued down the spine and into the legs securing a connection between the feet and the ground.
The figure turned searching for the source of rekindled life now flowing throughout her body. With loving kindness, her eyes searched for who had done this .... a witch or sorcerer, a magician or trickster, an alien or ghost? Renewed with hope, the no longer dark figure gently turned back to her life passing in front of the gray haired elder sitting inconspicuously in her isolated chair.
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