Kali’s fire, my life, my love.

Kali’s fire, my life, my love.

Kali came to me on a morning that felt like night. She said, “It gets dark so you can see the fire burn more clearly. Throw it all in. And by ‘all,’ I mean yourself.” Into the fire I put a habit of sadness I was married to. And so then I put in my own singular and true sadness, but not so it would be obliterated, rather transmuted, because I wanted to honour the utility of my delusions, the lies that made for density so that I could see the fire burn more clearly.