In my perfect world,
I would be understood
my soul unmasked,
my words unbroken by fear.
In my perfect world,
eyes would meet mine
and truly see not the surface,
but the storm, the depth that’s beneath.
In my perfect world,
joy would dress my mornings,
and sorrow would wander the streets,
unable to find my soul.
In my perfect world,
love would not arrive as chaos,
but as calm as two souls breathing in sync.
A man whose spirit fits my own,
as dawn fits the sky.
In my perfect world,
I would build a haven of laughter and grace,
a home blessed with the love
of my future husband and our children,
a place where dreams rest safely
beneath God’s gentle light.
But I live not in perfection.
I live in the aching in between
where desire often disappears,
and promises learns to fade.
Yet still, I rise.
I still try.
For even broken worlds
can be beautiful
when God walks beside you.
My world is not perfect,
but it is alive
and within its cracks,
hope blooms like light through stone.
Nov 7, 2025
Nov 7, 2025 at 7:23 PM UTC
In my perfect world,
I would be understood
my soul unmasked,
my words unbroken by fear.
In my perfect world,
eyes would meet mine
and truly see not the surface,
but the storm, the depth that’s beneath.
In my perfect world,
joy would dress my mornings,
and sorrow would wander the streets,
unable to find my soul.
In my perfect world,
love would not arrive as chaos,
but as calm as two souls breathing in sync.
A man whose spirit fits my own,
as dawn fits the sky.
In my perfect world,
I would build a haven of laughter and grace,
a home blessed with the love
of my future husband and our children,
a place where dreams rest safely
beneath God’s gentle light.
But I live not in perfection.
I live in the aching in between
where desire often disappears,
and promises learns to fade.
Yet still, I rise.
I still try.
For even broken worlds
can be beautiful
when God walks beside you.
My world is not perfect,
but it is alive
and within its cracks,
hope blooms like light through stone.