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I want to share my Love with Myself and the World.
#poems#literature#prose poem#love#self love#mine#text#thoughts#spilled thoughts#emotions#soulalignment#soul journey#inspiration#heart chakra#expression#art#deep emotions#writing
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#poems#freedom#heavens#lit#literature#writers on tumblr#wind#soul journey#art#creative writing#anxiety#spirituality#mine#text#quotes#words
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All I have is this feeling. This feeling that tells me: This is it. This is the beginning. This is the start.
A new cycle has begun, and I am finally ready to meet it.
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Is the west just finally collapsing
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ʜᴏᴘᴇ ɪꜱ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴋᴇᴇᴘꜱ ᴍʏ ꜰᴀɪᴛʜ ᴀʟɪᴠᴇ. ʜᴏᴘᴇ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋɪɴᴅʟɪɴɢ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴛᴀɴᴛ ꜰᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰʟᴀᴍᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ. ɪᴛꜱ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴋᴇᴇᴘꜱ ɪᴛ ɢᴏɪɴɢ.
and ꜰᴀɪᴛʜ ɪꜱ...ᴛʜᴇ ꜰʟᴀᴍᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇꜱꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ɪꜱ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴋᴇᴇᴘꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ꜰʟᴀᴍᴇ ʙᴜʀɴɪɴɢ.
ʜᴏᴘᴇ ɪꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇʟɪᴇꜰ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴛꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴘᴜꜱʜᴇꜱ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ꜱᴛᴇᴘ ᴏɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴊᴏᴜʀɴᴇʏ.
ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴇʟʟɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴜʀɢᴇꜱ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ꜱᴛᴇᴘ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴠᴇᴀʟ ᴡʜᴀᴛ’ꜱ ʜɪᴅᴅᴇɴ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋ.
ʜᴏᴘᴇ ɪꜱ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴋᴇᴇᴘꜱ ᴍᴇ ɢᴏɪɴɢ.
ʜᴏᴘᴇ ɪꜱ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴋᴇᴇᴘꜱ ᴍᴇ ᴀʟɪᴠᴇ.
ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴀᴡᴀʏ
ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɪ ɢᴏᴛ ʟᴇꜰᴛ?
¿ʇɟǝl ʇoɓ I ǝʌɐɥ ʇɐɥʍ pu∀
ʎɐʍɐ ʇɐɥʇ ǝʞɐ⊥
#hope#writing#writers of tumblr#poetry#literature#lit#text#mine#text post#fire#faith#soulalignment#soul journey#courage#endurance#positivity#thoughts#words#prose#poems#spilled poetry#spilled thoughts
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What I Thought You Were
You were never just a person. You were the essence itself. As I looked upon your statue- at your bare, exposed, naked and bleeding heart, I realized you were just that.
The Heart.
I always looked at you as a person who was far greater than I could ever hope to be. But I never stopped to think...I never stopped to realize or understand that I had that potential too. Deep within the chambers of my heart, there you lay waiting for me to come to You.
The body my eyes gaze upon is merely a vessel. In the realest and truest sense, you were only a vessel for the Spirit. You put aside all that you “thought” you were and drank the water of Life- The Spirit from The Father, the Universe, The Source. And that is how you became who you were. You threw away your shell and chose...Life.
You were never the body that was separate from us. You were the Energy, The Essence, The Power that connected all of us.
And yet You were just like us, until you decided to choose that Essence. And from there, you ascended.
“The Secret is this: Christ Lives Within You.” You only need to reach into yourself to find It. I only needed to reach into myself to find It.
To find out that I am you and you are me. In our own special way.
#writing#writeblr#ascension#spiritualawakening#christ consciousness#ego death#writers on tumblr#thoughts#paradigmshift#consciousevolution#church#mine#text
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Dandelion Dew Drops
It was raining and nighttime had fallen. And I was comfortable in the car. The raindrops bathed the windows in streams of miniature rivers and I snuggled deeper into the recesses of my coat comforted by the radiating warmth it provided.
It was a pleasant quiet ride and I was comforted by the silence sitting in that backseat of the car. I remember watching mystified as we drove silently over the bridge. I couldn’t tear my eyes away even if I wanted to.
I felt like a kid again. It was fantastical. Beautiful. It filled me with hope. Hope for myself and hope for the future.
The streetlights lit up the dark of the night like stars that had come to nest on the Earth. They were like fuzzy dandelions glowing splendidly in the night. And if I was big enough, I could easily pick one, whisper a wish, and blow into that light.
And I’d watch as the light particles dispersed into the darkness of the night, carrying my secrets, my dreams, my hopes, and my wishes along with it.
#hope#writing#Thoughts#dreamland#dreams#darkness of the night#dandelions#writeblr#poetry#anecdote#mine#fantasy#warmcore#dewdrops#stars#faeries#comfort#solitude#dark fantasy#mystical fantasy#text
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T.S. Eliot, from “A Song for Simeon”, Collected Poems, 1909-1962
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T.S. Eliot, from “Animula”, Collected Poems, 1909-1962
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Its Not You
Why don’t I have the courage to say this to you? I don’t know what I want. I feel like I’m trapped. It really isn’t you, Its me. Why am I so afraid of hurting you? What about me? I’m hurting myself by being with you. Why is that not reason enough? I don’t feel you value me enough, and yet I stay. I hope that things will change. But I’ve been through this rodeo before. And yet Im still here, suspended in time as the world moves on with out me. But in truth, it is my world that has stopped.
#breakup#relationships#writing#writeblr#insecurity#selfworth#courage#hangman#romance#self journey#life lessons#mine#text#thoughts#poetry#healing#self love
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Alejandra Pizarnik, tr. by Yvette Siegert, “Paths of the Mirror”, Extracting the Stone of Madness: Poems 1962 - 1972
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I hear them. Those thoughts. The ones that creep bubbling up spitting nasty mean things. I see them. I watch them. I smile at them. And wish them farewell...
#positiveattitude#depression#soul journey#mental health#writing#thoughts#mine#writeblogging#recovery#healing#writeblr
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Beauty in Nudity
For a long time now I have clung desperately to this robe. It was comfortable, soft, familiar, warm and safe. I didn’t want to let go of it. I made it apart of who I was. There were times when I teased an arm out, just to see what my bare skin was like. But I, grew cold and yearned for that warmth- that safety.
But the longer I clung to the robe, the more tattered, dirty, and ugly it became. A mirror was placed in front of me. What reflected back was a stranger. Was this who I really was? Who was this person? The reflected image, broke into a thousand pieces. Different versions of this stranger stared back at me. Who was I? Were these the different interpretations of me scattered across reality?
The more I resisted releasing the robe, the more the mirror fractured. Would I keep holding on until it finally broke?
I finally let go. The grey silk robes of finery slid off. And as they did, the splintered mirror reversed its many fractures. With one whole piece, it revealed what was covered beneath.
Me. In all my nudity. I was naked before the mirror. And I cried because all that I tried to hide was reflected back to me. I could not run from it anymore. I had to Look.
I saw myself-truly for the first time. I was beautiful.
I was different.
The robe brought shame upon me but as I stood before the mirror with all of my flaws, mistakes, hopes, dreams, and love, the shame disappeared without a trace.
I was whole, just as the mirror was.
In all of my nakedness, I was free to be.
I was happy for the first time.
1/1/21
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The Last Breath, Final Rest.
Those quiet moments that befell the café were often the most significant in the most mundane way possible. I would just stare at the traffic passing by. The people walking to and fro. Wondering where they were going to and where they were coming from.
My most favorite time was watching the rain fall in the night. And the way the rain coated the streets mixed with a fantastical gloss of blurred hues from the city lights, made me feel very comforted.
The silence that permeated throughout the café was a demanding presence. It was in those moments that I could hear and feel everything.
In the silence, everything became louder.
The slight shuffle of my feet, the movement of the world around me, and my thoughts became amplified in the quiet.
Within the silence, if I stayed still enough, I felt like I’d be frozen in time. I felt like I would know what it was like to...die- while still being alive.
I feared death for a long time. Who doesn’t? But I feared what would come next. Would I disappear forever? Would there be nothing? Would there be something? Would it be painful? These thoughts often bled into my conscious late at night, especially when I slept alone. The thought of dying frightened me.
Yet, there in that café, enveloped by the gentle embrace of the silence, I felt peace. It was an all encompassing wave of peace.
And then a thought came to me.
I don’t think Death would be painful.
At the very end.
At the very last breath.
I would feel a deep sense of Peace.
1/1/2021
#death#writing#memoir#writers of tumblr#peace#city life#cafe#mine#dying#final rest#rip#cemetary#thoughts#writeblr#dark academia
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