This is not the gentle stride of the white Faerie steed of the willowy Faerie Queen and her flower Faerie attendants, but the mania of dark Fae, the Winter Fae and their Horned God.
Perhaps now we can get down to the business of achieving a sincere answer to a very urgent question: What might you do, in earnest, to loosen the strictures that have so cleverly bound up your potential and drained your wealth?
Why else would you expect me to settle for anything less than love in its purest form, as if my desires to make love to you, birth life with you, be ravished by you, and merge completely with you could be contained or constricted by fear that we might actually be bound to one another?
I tell you now: gone are the days when you live for acceptance from some woman who calls herself a Queen, as she cuts others down and locks herself up in a tower... You are as much of a Queen as any other. Own your birthright, so this world can too. Only then will this earth have a chance at ...
I'm honoring this temple I live in by dusting and decluttering every room, getting rid of any regrets and resentments. Just watch me reach the 50s walking like a queen. The one who defeated shame and guilt for her empire.