I did a protection spell for some special people last night (I cut of the identifying information but if anyone wants to do this spell before sunset today, just add the person’s full name and address underneath this. You’ll want at least a white, black, and/or grey candles. I added blue because it seemed appropriate. The small crystals around it are obsidian.)

Put a cinnamon broom over our door.

And left offerings for The Good Neighbors (a piece of spice cake my partner is making was added to this as well and another piece will be added tonight when it’s a full cake with frosting ect along with the feast we’re making today. Apple stuffed pork chops, roasted potatoes, and fried cheese)

We’re also going to be making jar protection spells, having a fire, and enjoying good company of another witch.

And my added stones should be coming today so I’m very excited about that!

They say hope is the thing with feathers, but I believe homesickness is the thing with wings. To see swans soar and butterflies flutter invokes throes of nostalgia in me much deeper than anything I have known in this lifetime.

I have always known that I have an old soul, but at times I feel ANCIENT like a soul that time has forgotten, lost from history, feeling a sense of longing and belonging for lands greener and times simpler, a world more beautiful than the one I live in now and my heart aches to be home in another world that may even be unworldly-among the flowers; atop the clouds.

I miss my wings, be they of angel, of fae, or of freedom; soft as clouds, delicate as rose petals. I miss mystical and divine energy warm and radiant, resonating in everything around me; sparkling and chiming where the atmosphere smells sweet and sounds like a music box melody.

And though my memory is as hazy as the morning fog, I am certain that I was there once not so long ago. And though my wings are gone now, I still wish to fly; to float like a wish in the wind like all the other things with wings.