Does the road wind up-hill all the way? Yes, to the very end.
Does the journey take the whole long day? From morn till night, my friend.
— Christina Rossetti

Be a witch because your DNA begs it. Because you know no other way of being. Be this magic because the tears from your eyes come from the oceanic heavens. You are here to cleanse. Be a witch because the birds singing are ancestors. And the bugs between your toes are children. Be magic because you see words as signs and signs as symbols. Be a witch because its what you have always been here to do. And be. And practice. And preach. Your grandmother's grandmother was burned for it. And your heart burns for it. And for her. And for you. And for the feminine serpentine Kundalini waiting to rise up from within the core of you, the Earth. To shoot to the sun and collapse back in creating nothing but light. Because Witch, you are Heaven and Earth. You are Genesis and Armageddon. You are creation and destruction. You are watery chaos and the final flood. You are Theogony and songs to Muse. You are muse herself, my love. You are God. She is God. God is She. And He. And We. 

Surround yourself with coven and cloak. Shield up and walls down. Mantra and meditation. Sacred sex and sisterhood. Clouds and cotton. Surround yourself with mysticism. Deep breath and breadth. Old books and bug guts. Theosophy and tinctures. Alchemy and Ayahuasca. Give yourself trees and roots. Wings and wide hips. Let yourself be soft. Hold the weight of your pain and the collective. 

Melissa DeLynn