Let Hestia hold your hand, child of fire, for She is the sparks and embers warming your heart in far-too-long winters.
Let Ares stretch your hand, child of flesh, for the battle you have to face lies within, and His anger energizes the soul with the fury of a thousand wounds.
Let Artemis guide your hand, moon-touched child, for Her aim is true and reveals the lights in unnecessary nights, so you can rely on true stars.
Let Hephaestus put His hands on your temples, child of the forge, for under His touch mists and clouds bend into clarity, a smithed sense of purpose, mind woven into self.
Let Hera close Her hands around your throat, child of love, so that you can finally understand what air really is.
Let Poseidon‘s hands on your back, child of waves, for they are, like you, the living proof of the water’s focus and courage.
Let Athena’s hands on your eyes, child of war, for She knows that all scars will transmute, reshape, into golden weapons and mirrors, your true birthrights and heirlooms.
Let Aphrodite kiss you down there, child of pleasure, and help you embrace all your beauty, even that one you desperately want to hide, which is the best at her sight.
Let Apollo kiss your forehead, child of sun, and crown you with yourself, for you’re making Him so proud and blazing.
Let Hermes kiss your back, child of skies, for like Him, your wings don’t bound you to any home, except the liquid one housing the joys and winds of future lands.
Let Zeus kiss your lips, child of Gods, and dissolve in His love for all that is and ever will be, for you He loves you so much, with all your past, present and future storms.
Now let Demeter kiss your wrists, child of Hell, for it is over, and She wept for you when you were away, She wept in agony, but you came back now, and you’ve grown so much in the dark, enough to hold the seeds to all the others in your bare, bruised, beaten hands, but you have them now, so you can teach now, with this bare, bruised, beating heart.