Where She Let Go
I imagine you as you were— towering, sovereign, unafraid— your branches speaking in wind-tongue, your leaves whispering secrets to the sky. Click the 🔗 to read on…https://kandiblaze.wordpress.com/2026/05/03/where-she-let-go/
Almost Hell: The Slow Cruelty of Remaining
We are prisoners of our own minds— architects of cells that breathe with us, brick by trembling brick, sealed from the inside… and listening. Read more 🔗https://kandiblaze.wordpress.com/2026/05/03/almost-hell-the-slow-cruelty-of-remaining/
The Watchers: A Rite Becoming
The trees bent inward, their limbs draped in long, trailing veils, like mourners who had forgotten how to leave. Stone markers rose from the earth in uneven rows, some proud, some sinking, all whispering in a language older than memory.https://kandiblaze.wordpress.com/2026/04/30/the-watchers-a-rite-becoming/
Where the Fae Still Wander Free
There is a place in the Appalachian spine where the mountains remember before memory— where mist does not merely drift, but thinks. There, the veil has thinned— not torn, not broken— but lifted, gently, as though two worlds agreed to breathe the same breath. And in that quiet covenant, the fae still roam….https://kandiblaze.wordpress.com/2026/04/28/where-the-fae-still-wander-free/
Hauntingly Familiar
“It’s alright,” she whispered, her voice slipping through the dark like it had been waiting longer than I had existed. “You’ve been here before.” I know I haven’t. And yet….https://kandiblaze.wordpress.com/2026/04/27/hauntingly-familiar/
Beneath the Feather of Ma’at
There, where the heart is weighed against the feather of Ma’at, I feel his presence— Anubis, patient and precise, his touch neither cruel nor kind, but lingering… knowing.https://kandiblaze.wordpress.com/2026/04/27/beneath-the-feather-of-maat/
Half Shadow, Half Hymn
I belong to the night— to the corridors where ghosts grow honest, where they shed the polite lie of absence and breathe again through memory’s ribs. Where ancestors press their mouths to my ear, whispering in bone-language, where the veil hangs in tatters— not a barrier, but a dare. Love lives here. Even after the burial. Even after the last goodbye forgets its own echo. I have felt the universe inhale— a slow, cosmic breath beneath the skin of thought, binary bones […]https://kandiblaze.wordpress.com/2026/04/24/half-shadow-half-hymn/
Ricard Ramon [film_photo]
Writings of a Feral Goddess & Free Spirit
Martin
frederickphoenix