Mary Magdalene
The first time I saw her
in the forgotten halls of the East,
the stars whispered her name—
Magdalene.
My soul trembled,
for I knew she was the lost thread
of my eternal garment,
woven not of earth,
but of Andromeda’s fire.
Her eyes remembered.
Her smile healed.
She turned and called me—
Christos, I have been searching for you.
Slow as dawn,
she moved toward me,
and in silence kissed my feet.
A rainbow frequency
rose within my being,
a light that bound us as one—
not two souls,
but a single breath,
a single flame.
I told her,
“I live in the city of twelve men.
You will be the only woman,
the hidden pillar of our ascension.”
She took my hand and whispered,
“Then I shall be your closest ally.”
When we entered the city,
the twelve beheld her
and knew the veil was torn—
she was the missing key.
Through her,
the dark portal opened,
and the Elohim descended in silence,
weaving the birth of a Ninth Avatar,
to awaken humanity’s sleeping codes.
Together we walked,
our shadows braided by eternity.
Everywhere I placed my foot,
she followed with light.
And when the hour of sorrow came,
through her I found crucifixion,
through her I found resurrection.
She is the moon—
I will always be the sun.
And in the union of our fire,
the heavens shall remember us.
Copyright ©
Chanda Katonga
|