Reclaiming Our Virginity: Restoring Our Power.
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Close your eyes. Find her — take as long as you need — and it may take a while for we have been conditioned to cast her away. To deny her power.
We have been trained that she is weak and fragile. Broken and tainted. Too often stolen from us. A power too easily given away. But they were wrong! So call to her. Claim her back, for her power is still yours. She is within you still.
The virgin. The woman who belongs only to herself.
Find her. Virga. For she is fresh and unspoiled like newly-formed sprigs that grow upon the tree of womanhood. Her soft buds and fresh, green leaves unfurl upon her limbs. Slowly unrolling. Reaching. Spreading out beneath the caressing rays of the sun. She allows its warmth to softly caress her — to arouse and coax her into pulsating life. Her buds burst open as she brazenly displays her flourishing glory.
Her nectar sweet and satisfying. Her blossoms full and soft.
She intimately knows her own allure. She feels no shame. There is no dishonor in her gorgeous form. Nobody can take it from her, and nothing can ever stain her personal beauty. Not one thing!
Call out to her. Virginem. For she is unsullied by the expectations that society holds for her. She will not behave! She will not be bound within the cage that others have built for her. A cage built in order to keep her in. Keep her small. Keep her trapped. Keep her protected from herself and her shameless ways. But she will not be caught! Just try to catch her. For she is as swift as a March wind.
She is as deft as the birds that twist and dive like arrows within the heavens. She may appear at times to drop like a stone, but don’t be fooled! For she is as cunning as a spring tide — catching you unawares.
She will rise again and again with laughter upon her lips and her hair twisting into the clouds. None will ever steal away her true freedom or her worth.
Speak her name. Virgo. The girl you once were. For she is unexploited. Never to be captured. Her wings never clipped to keep her grounded. She has never been bound. Tethered.
And as for her song? They may long for her sensual words spoken in breathy whispers and soft, carnal sighs. They may yearn for her song that tenderly brushes an ear; painting with it her masterpiece of wildfire within their minds — igniting their bodies with her flames.
But that song? That song is hers and none are entitled to it. So she may share it with the world as it pleases her. She may share with many or with none.
For it is her perfect song to sing — to whomsoever she chooses. It is her gift to give as she wishes. It is hers and hers alone.
Claim back her power. The maiden. For she belongs to no one. She is fully herself — pure and unadulterated. Her mind — like her flesh — is her own. For she is uncorrupted by the rules that have been written by others. She is ungoverned by them. This life is her game. She writes her own rules. She starts upon her life’s journey chaste. Unadorned and naked. And she bares her soul.
Her heart too is stripped bare and she holds it to her exposed breast like a compass — allowing it to guide her. Her first steps are unsteady. Shaky. Unsure. But soon they carry her onward.
Yes, she takes risks! But no door is closed to her. No holds are barred. Though wide-eyed and trembling she may be, she embraces each new experience with open arms. Ready to run headlong into new love and friendship. Eager to seek out adventures in unfamiliar places. Willing to discover her true path. Prepared to thrash out a route amongst the thorns, or climb with raw, bleeding fingers to the summit of her goals.
And though she may make many, she is keen to learn by each new mistake. They do not define her. They do not taint her.
For her virtue will be found in her unfettered freedom. In her unrelenting determination. In her ability to smash through the status quo and discover what lies beyond.
Become her once more. The virgin. For she has never left you. She can never be debased — not by any man nor by any woman. She will not ever be spoilt. She cannot ever be marred by any religion nor by any culture. She cannot be contaminated. Not even by the touch of another. She is unblemished by the past. And though she may be hiding, though she may be buried deep down — go to her!
Go deep, then deeper still. For she is the beginning. The anima. The pure, divine spark within you.
Restore her to her true power. Reclaim her and she will lead you ever forward in your truth.
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Verity Louisa is a weaver of words, a spinner of stories, and a forger of fantasy. She is a fabricator of fables, a maker of magic, and a lover of legend. She is a creator of mess and of laughter, a crafter of tears and of tantrums. She is a mystic mama. She is a woman-child who loves fiercely and drinks deeply from the cup that bears the sweet nectar of the profound. She lives in a beautiful British Celtic county, and embraces life here with open arms, because its ancient rhythms pulsate and resonate through her. You can connect with her on Facebook, Twitter or via her website.
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