Hallowed Night and Day of the Soul

The universe whispered from above:

You are divine power, capable, worthy.

Third eye open, channels clear, energy unbridled and flowing.

Strength with which to bear the task of healing.

Wisdom with which to read and understand the language of the signs.

Gifts with which to carry light and shine on others.

For seasons, sacred work sustained me.

Channeling messages, tending flames, holding sacred space.

Being with them in their pain, bringing their ancestors' words to them,

Holding vigil through their dark nights of the soul.

But the cosmos demanded payment.

A debt I couldn't see until my aura dimmed, seemingly completely.

Not just earthly tired: spirit tired.

A tired that no amount of sage could assuage.

Exhaustion haunting my astral body.

Heart aching for Source connection.

Inner flame turned to ash and light work to shadow.

At first, as if abandoned by guides.

Gifts fading, connection broken.

Needing stronger protection spells, perhaps.

More prayer, perhaps.

But my soul knew.

My higher self knew.

And I knew: one is never completely cut off from one’s soul.

A minute. And then another minute.

Sending signs I couldn't dismiss:

Cards reversed.

Dreams filled with warnings.

Healing sessions that sapped my mornings.

My soul wailed: Enough!

An ominous forewarning.

Then Spirit revealed:

My sacred fire had become a funeral pyre.

An altar erected on others’ desire.

And I was the offering.

If you're reading this in this liminal space

Where you're still holding light in everyone’s place

And feeling more like an extinguished flame

The mighty ancestors proclaim:

No sin can rob you of your gifts.

Your vessel is bound by finite limits.

A sacred space that is yours alone.

Not to be filled with others’ wishes.

Not to be filled with others’ needs.

Not to be filled with others’ energies.

Beloved light-worker! Your sacred release awaits!

Slough off the world’s demands and constraints.

Cease to bleed your light for weights.

Discard the ancient stories and darkness.

The Divine is calling you home to yourself.

To rest in your own sacred flame.

To remember the healer needs to be healed.

And those who bring light must receive light –

In universal acclaim.

You are not a holy sacrifice.

You are a beloved child of grace.

Let others tend the sacred space,

Your soul's sabbath to arise.

The world awaits your magnificence.

The angels watch in deference.

Your path is hewn in reverence

Afore the appointed day.

©Miriam Segal, 13.06.2025