I once wrote to mystify a tale of lifetimes crafted in each night and day. So I pray every night as I live a near-death experience before I sleep, and I wonder is it me or my PTSD?

Souls are precious for the soul-less and mine will never be for sale.

There are a million worlds out there and they are all lived here.
Whatever might be the vows you've taken, by the morning they'll all lose their meaning because the night is harsh, and we suffer to sleep, and in our agony, the evil entities creep onto us with their mischievous deals.

There are a million worlds out there and they are all lived here.
My vision's been recalibrated to see every version of what is real, in threads of colors descending, intertwining with my stomach and neck, like a magical key to a world that emanates consciousness in orange and red.

From the brink of death to love and respect, it is all good when I remember, but what can I do when I forget?  

I sleep hoping that the morning will bring back my optimism


Words Of Harfouchism

I was wayworn,
The fiber, bone, and marrow of my entity pined
To be quenched, to be drenched
In the ardent streams of
Esprit d’ amour
(All we need is love).

The crossroads I’d encountered
Brought my vagrant soul to this place
Every onerous weight
Was worth it, I’ve ascended;
But,
Where does etherealization lead?

Someday, I will effloresce,
Bloom in reminiscence
From seeds of grace,
Aromatic petals of heartsease;
O, within the fertile soil of fidelity, I will fully fathom
The perfume of Life’s Tapestry.

A martyred past can be tortuous;
Yes, salvation can seem scant, and our future dubious;
But, transcendence is harmonious
With believing, an
Adamantine heart, and
A luminous soul.

Therefore, open your symphonic heart,
Let the reverberations roam freely, uninhibitedly,
Like a harmony, your thoughts and consciousness will overlap,
All will flow through you abundantly.
Clairvoyant Bravebird unfurl thy wings
You sacral, divine, susurrant song-weaving dream.

(Se’ lah)