I don’t belong here. I don’t belong to deadlines and caged structures. I don’t fit well in a box; such makes it difficult for me to breathe. I thought so before I could survive here but I was wrong. I used to want this, but again I was wrong. I was dead wrong.
I belong to the Earth---to the wind that tussles my hair for eternal ownership; to the sun that bathes my hidden glory with visual contours; to the sky that nestles me in the womb of a Higher Being.
I am a priestess; a slave of the Mother, a channel of God, an advocate of art and a lover of words. I may seem worthless but I am not. I may not excel in means calculated by numerical values, but I will make a position for my self in this world.
But first things first, I don’t belong here.
I am owned by something else.
