Worship. It’s become a “bad” word. Years of oppression have turned the sweetness of worship into bitter chains. Centuries of censure replaced the ecstasy of divine embrace with a dogma of sadness. But I worship you, who reads this now.
I worship the trees. I worship snow as it falls on my face. I lift my face to the sky to worship it.
And I will not relinquish the joy of lifting my face and heart to worship my Gods.
I rededicate the word “worship.” I free it for anyone who should want it. No one gets to exclusively own it. I free it to be whatever each individual wants it to be. I free it for anyone who wants to give and receive the love and power that can occur in worship.
So mote it be.
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