Have you ever been told that you’re too sensitive? Do you see this as a weakness? Is your sensitivity something you try to withhold for the sake of others? Because it makes them uncomfortable?
Your sensitivity is a strength,
It’s where love and connection and belly laughs are born,
Sensitivity is what allows us to feel………..deeply. There is no weakness in feeling deeply, feeling deeply is the essence of a voluptuous life.
Sensitivity is what allows you to fall in love, to make love, to feel love, it’s the artist inside you crafting the most spine tingling experiences you’ll ever have.
Sensitivity is the composer of the butterfly symphony in your belly as you set off on the adventure of a lifetime.
She’s the fire starter who lights up your desires, the fuel to the passion that ignites your being.
Sensitivity is the butcher of your heart when you loose someone you love and the alchemist who transmutes it back into gold, whispering to love to come home again.
Sensitivity is the author of the nights you are held in the arms of a lover, whose breath on your neck is so celestial that you lie submissively awake all night absorbing every moment in pure, divine presence.
Sensitivity is the mother of your ideas, she conceives them, carries them, gives birth to them and nurtures them as they grow.
Sensitivity is the lyricist who sees your soul in the poems of the songs that he scribes, because his pain is your pain, he’s seen life through your eyes
Sensitivity is the joke smith, he’s the aches in your cheeks from laughing too hard and the source of the stream of tickles that cause waterfalls of laughter
Sensitivity is the spellbinder, casting magic that reveals old friends at very first sight
He’s the bartender who intoxicates you into dancing all night
He’s the shaman who guides your heart to its source and the captain who pilots your life on its course
He’s the painter of the canvas that illustrates your life, she’s the angel who transcends your darkness to light
She’s the playwright of dreams that come alive on your stage
He’s the buddhist who breathes peace to your rage
The strings of your cello, the beat of your drum, the conductor of the orchestra of what’s yet to come
And still she humiliates us, we box her up in shame, we label her as weak, yet she’s the master of the game
Your sensitivity is a gift, a force that’s divine, the enchantress of moments when life feels sublime.
Celebrate her, honour her, wear her with pride, she’s the constellation of miracles, of marvels, of feeling alive.
Photo Credit: Kylie Sparre
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