the meaning of sovereignty

I may no longer speak Enochian, but the accent is still there.

I've broken many habits I told myself I could do without. I guess I kept them around because they seemed reliable they seemed ever persistent while I remained pliable. I could have kept going on a path that was beat down ahead of time, maybe by me; but it's in my nature to find my way home without the certainty.

It's no secret, I've made new habits, ones where I calculate my chances, I stay conscious and present and do my best not to misstep. I take risks, a lot more than I used to, but at least they mean more to me than just to feel good.

I keep pulling Temperance and I know my patience leads me to harmony, yeah I've noticed the way it's become a part of me. But it doesn't matter how much I've bloomed there's no doubt I've kept my thorns, my teeth and my horns, and by all of them I've chosen to stay adorned.

    My wings were ashen many years ago, but like phantom limbs
   they spread and let the light pass through,
   old feathers fall,
   new ones come,
     —in black
   shimmery and like I said
   still shadows to the sun.

I've torn and split, even chewed through the things I've needed to. I used symbols and metaphor to push the envelope a bit more, to find the edges of their worlds and the confines of their minds. Those things aren't mine but I recall what it's like and I don't always practice restraint, I like it that way.

And though this may be true, I walk through their realms freely with less fear than when I seemed darkly, yeah—I feel gritty for carrying a dark heavy but I've disciplined It and I show myself mercy. Tender. Gently and patiently.

I haven't left my principles nor the thresholds I've set, I'm meticulous with them and I refine it when I know it needs it—but even now I know that too much light can be blinding, too much sense—disorienting, and to be honest, well that means vulnerability where again I expose it willingly.