A Prayer From Mother Earth

A sacred breath from the ancient mother, I release into the wind for you.

May the grandfather wind gather this crimson dust from the hollow of my hands, from the beating core of my heart, from the smoke of my spirit, and carry it across the valleys to where you walk.

May it rise on the great wings of the eagle and find you there— pressing one more quiet footstep into the jagged red stone, though the trail climbs steep, though your bones carry weariness, though the mist still hides the high medicine of the next ledge.

May the deep roots of the Earth hold steady beneath you. May the breath of the four winds push gently at your back. May the eagle lend you his eyes to see the sacred mountain from above the clouds.

Keep ascending— not to conquer the summit, but to find the quiet waters of peace. To remember your place in the circle. To know you are enough. To receive the harvest that has long waited for your spirit to know its own.