This is for the women who wake up each morning fiercely roaring—
To the ladies who pull themselves out of bed, vibrating with a honey-dripped purpose,
and who barely contain their spirit within the trembling walls of their silken flesh.
The ones who might not yet know their true calling, but allow nothing to get in their way of listening with perked ears for it.
For the ravenous woman is one of those driven vixens,
who rides a Harley, wears copious amounts of pleather and paints everything in her favorite shade: hot, crimson red.
She is the woman who is here to attain all her goals,
even the ones from past lifetimes she thought she wasn’t ready for yet.
This is to the gifted feline who has the power to transform old masks and costumes into new ones, with a single stitch of her manifesting hand.
The ravenous woman consumes fear for breakfast and spits out butterflies for lunch.
She is here on a very certain mission,
one that orbits singularly around the fierce fire of being fully alive.
This woman is dedicated to wrapping herself up only in the stories she meticulously spins,
ones of success and health and mysteriously endless love,
for she will find all that on this journey.
She doesn’t feel the need to look to others to create her fluorescent, vibrant dreams.
For the ravenous woman always wants more and is straight up proud of herself for this,
she is not a subdued goddess of trinkets or coddles,
and so she makes her life up entirely as she goes.
She is the awakened one,
the enlightened, high priestess,
and the seer of all that is.
This is the women who skinny dips at the first sign of buds opening on trees, and the one who dances bra-less simply to enjoy the sway of her own breasts.
To the ravenous woman who knows there is no boundary to her beauty or her power,
and understands that this path is the one she will claim it on,
there are no mistakes in her vivaciously, precious world.
This ravenous woman digs her own damn holes when she wants to lay down and rest,
for sometimes she likes to sleep in cool dark places that smell of moist earth and rich soil.
She is the lady who is growing and manifesting something great in the depth of her aching belly,
and at the core of her ravenous self, there are special things yet to be seen.
She will birth them when the earth and her loins are ready,
and out of her will come the most marvelous creation yet.
For this ravenous woman has done this all before,
which is why she always knew that there was so much more.
So she takes herself up to the top of every mountain—and there, majestically creates new worlds,
for this lady has the power to form an entire universe in one projection of her telepathic soul.
This ravenous woman does not understand the word “can’t.”
She is the one who never envisioned a white dress or sparkling ring,
because she knows her purpose here is something a little more personal.
To the vixens whose mission it is to create a new woman,
the kind of feminine that will not be defeated or stalled,
the one who knows her rightful place on earth as ecstatic joy.
To the ravenous women—
may you lead the charge.
Author: Sarah Norrad
Editor: Yoli Ramazzina