WildChild of caliche and scrub

so, here i am .. warm bed, days one running to the next..
And in this a break. A remembrance.
I am relieved to be having calm sleep for the first time in a many years. I have been taking flower essences. They are helping - a lot.
I have found someone in this world that I understand, once again. Someone who speaks the language of my soul.. a communication i can hear and understand. Elven language of bear and fish....A new teacher/mentor and for that I am so glad. When the connection is there, it's almost as Borg.. assimilation but for all of the amazingly WildChild reasons. The soul soars.. the core flames. Wind and Moonrise remembered. I am glad.. and reach in dreamstate for moments clear and untame. For memories of Cottonwoods and Sunset-Wake Thunderstorms.
'..Life flows in never ending circles within circles within spirals.... with each soul trailing a thread, we can only see the piece of tapestry, we ourselves weave..
Let your thread dance and spin.'
Beautiful days of shining white walls as constant horizon called. Sun dips behind sheltering mountain and land-kissing-sky blushes. blushes... blushes... fades to blue.. purple...black....
Is anyone out there? Stars sing crisp songs to me as into the black I drive.
These days connections return. Soul again longs to ask - longs to connect - longs. Memories, Wishes, Wants that turned to Sharpness of hurt and lost road maps. Times of Wearing the Inside out. Beautiful Soul, Beautiful Things.
My body is changing, returning to a beautiful, dry dusty stage of sun bleached bones and heat scorched earth. Long, Lanky Limbs of graceful Power. 'Use Power or Power will Use you.'
WildChild of caliche and scrub. Black and Rust Trailings and Slag. Winding clear Shallow Waters and High Cliff Dwelling Echoes left for time. Coming back to life, a soul trapped in mundane city paper carbon unit masses. Connecting to the rhythms of cycle and movement around her gray and green soul turned pink and teal. Memories of snakegrass and mesquite replaced with lady slipper and skunk cabbage's engulfing green.
These dreams of here and now.... the stark realization of Little Miss approaching 7.... How does that make me? No matter.. no matter... ageless in this Wildness.... WildChild.