Meet Your Goddess
She is the Blooming Maw; the mouth that bites, the soil that births, the rot that feeds. To know her is to surrender the notion that the body is fixed and finite. She does not promise beauty, nor longevity, but she gives the gift of transformation.
The Coming of the Maw
Long before the first wolf took root in the valley, the soil whispered to itself. It whispered of hunger, of decay, of the great cycle that grinds all life back into seed. From that whisper came a shudder, and from that shudder came teeth. Not for tearing prey, but for splitting the husks of the unbloomed.
She did not howl when she came. She bloomed.
The earth tore open in a wet sigh, spilling pale vines veined with marrow. They curled and flexed like the tendons of a great beast, each bearing blossoms of bone. From the largest flower, her teeth emerged; uneven, wet with the ichor of creation. She did not arrive as a savior, but as a gardener with no patience for the unchanging.
Hymn of the First Teeth
She did not howl when she came. She bloomed.
The soil was her breath, the rot her song.
Teeth parted the flesh of the earth,
And the marrow roots drank deep.
We are her blossoms, her spores, her bloom eternal.
To speak her hymn is to call her gaze. To call her gaze is to invite change. All who walk the Path accept that her bloom may come gently, or with the cracking of bone.