The Sacred Rise: A Temple Invocation
There comes a moment —
quiet and wild —
when a woman no longer wishes to be seen for what she performs,
but felt for who she truly is.
A moment when she grows tired of reaching, pleasing, fixing, chasing.
And instead… she begins remembering.
She returns to rhythm.
To softness.
To the sacred breath she once abandoned.
This is her homecoming.
The remembering of something ancient and holy within her bones.
This is the vibration of OM —
not a place, but a presence.
Not performance, but pulse.
A sanctuary for sacred remembrance of the wild feminine
rising within us all.
And so, I offer you this invocation.
Let it be spoken. Felt. Danced.
Let it rise in you like the breath before fire.
The Sacred Begins Here
You don’t need to be more.
You don’t need to be fixed.
You only need to remember.
Remember your body is a temple.
Your breath, a prayer.
Your rhythm, holy.
This is not performance.
This is presence.
This is the sacred, in the everyday.
The soft sip of tea.
The fire in your belly.
The pulse in your bones.
The silence between each breath.
You are not broken.
You are becoming.
You are remembering the wild within.
She Rises with Grace and Fire
She does not rise to be seen —
she rises to become true.
She burns what is false.
She releases what is not hers.
She softens, even as she blazes.
She is not separate from the sacred —
she is the sacred, remembering itself.
She is a creative muse.
A holy alchemist.
A woman who walks with ritual and weeps in prayer.
She does not chase.
She does not need to be chosen.
She is magnetic.
She is whole.
She is the wildfire.
Sacredly burning. Sacredly restoring.
Not to destroy, but to clear the way.
To cleanse the path with fierce grace.
To illuminate the truth buried beneath the debris.
To make space for what is real to root and rise.
She dances in ashes and seeds in the same breath —
because she knows:
what is meant to remain
will always survive the flame.
She burns not to harm,
but to heal.
To remember.
To begin again.
Her Presence Ripples
Her presence is not quiet —
it is felt.
It echoes through her home,
her children,
her lover.
The trees lean in to listen.
The mountains echo her hum.
The stars shimmer in time with her breath.
The entire universe rearranges
in response to her remembering.
And Then, She Remembers
That burning her life to the ground
was never destruction —
but a holy dismantling
of everything that wasn’t true.
And in the silence that followed,
she finally heard it:
Her soul song —
not a scream,
but a hum.
A radiant OM.
The sound of the universe remembering her.
A Final Prayer: For Strength and Rising
She rises not to be more —
but to return to what she has always been.
She rises in devotion.
She rises in clarity.
She rises in wisdom.
She rises in love.
She rises in fire.
As the kundalini awakens,
she lets the sacred serpent dance up her spine.
Untamed. Ancient. Alive.
It coils and climbs,
awakening all that was forgotten —
singing her back into truth.
This is the dance of Shakti and Shiva —
not as distant deities,
but as the sacred feminine and sacred masculine
woven within her.
Not in battle.
Not in domination.
But in sacred union.
She does not chase wholeness —
she becomes it.
And when they meet in her spine,
a new world is born.
A new earth rises —
and so does she.
You Are the Flame. You Are the Temple. You Are Home.
This is your remembering, beloved.
Let this be your return.
If this stirs the ache in your bones —
if something ancient flickers in your chest —
then welcome.
You were never lost.
Only waiting to be re-lit.
🜃 The OM Temple awaits you.