✨ The Cloak of Gold She wears no garment stitched by human hands. Her cloak is woven from the breath of stars— from the memory of suns that knew her name before she was born. It drapes over her shoulders like prophecy. A mantle of light. A sacred inheritance. This is no…
V oice Behind the Veil
I wasn’t born knowing. I was born remembering— Through the mirror of my wounded masculine. Through the roar that rose from my belly. Through the ache that whispered: You came here to be Her.
The Divine Feminine was never a concept. She was a frequency. A pulse. A breath. A…