How is it that changing my energy Changes my life? How is it that altering my outlook, Something so internal and invisible, Changes the external How is it that my inner landscape Decides my outer experience? I must run like a demon to gratitude I must prise my hands off of sorrow Break up with…

Something With in Something calls you inside Reach out, Try hard not to be so Alone as much, and then alone time is not, truly a bad thing. At times It’s healthy. It provides a deeper kind of growth, one realizes one has changed grown. The questions are So where, does it go From here.…

Out in the Open Courage burning Again Exposing the Hostess One scale The character is Revealed In the spirit of Truth Directing the Role In her heart, mind, and Soul We are people Worthy to Defend Fruits of faith Real value We are all Good works Of heaven Bringing our peace and Joy To every…

Eyes of a Savior Staring at the Door Never failing Left now Turn forward Right estimate Clad the armor Personal interest Pointing at the Woman Tearing at her Soul Spirit lifting She just has one Desire Spirals and whirls The melody sweeping A simple pleasure Union In divinity A working love Joy in Deep water…

Paddles in hand. Rowing against the wind. Getting nowhere. Frustrated, I sit. Seagulls fly above. Embracing nothing. The boat sways. Rocking me into balance. As white caps crash against the sacred bow. Turning us back with a smack. Trying to catch our wings that lift off. as oarlocks release the yielding craft. Calming the waters…

Janie picked up the paperweight, the one you gave me, last Christmas. She said it was the most beautiful thing in the room. She cupped it like an egg in her palm, turning her face away, when I spoke of you. No one had ever given me such a gift! The Night Sky, caught in…

I’ve met my Waterloo With its thick walls And roaring fire And only the careful drivers get through Because the cars are parked Pointing in both directions On both sides of the narrow street. My sugarless tea with British water And milk from British cows Tastes sweet Gazing from my bed at the cloud filled…

She comes to me in the quiet, So often in my morning bed; When tears have dried in the bright silence, and dreams have fled. Windows open, doors locked tight, Against intruding shadows sometimes even, against the Light. She isn’t gentle. She isn’t kind. She’s there to prod me; to remind: I called her back.…

Take that piece and handle it- Do that thing And smash it, Welcome that light! Revel in it- Survivors into thrivers: Aba KA dab bra Boom time is here- Open that door Transverse that landscape, Grit those teeth Get it done- We all wait for the prodigal daughter To come home We set the table…

She is. Still searching. For the perceived hidden part of herself. That can only experience her natural state of being. It is no other, than whom, she already is. Yet, she turns her attention elsewhere. Over layering, overlapping, undercutting a reflective meandering mirage. That never quenches her thirst.