Before I knew you as Divine woman, I longed for your presence, In time i knew nothing could break our bond…
but that was before I knew you,
I know you now, and time is of the essence I was right all along, you indeed are my true sister. My confidant. I call you Mother.one of four souls highly blessed due to their grandfather's highly respected works through preaching the gospel humbly,
truly one of a kind, everyone loves their grandparents and deem them special. and I am no different,
To have known my grandfather Neo Garvin, is to have known what it means to be touched by an angel,
He and My grandmother(still young and beautiful as ever) chose to choose one another until death bid them ado,
The reaper comes to collect the souls of the ******,
God comes and gets his children, he sends special hands to aid in the process, he is always with me that i know is certain, unlike any other thing in this world, with every theory, every question,problem and solution is a percentage of dis-trust in it..
conflicting irony they call it,
how can you dis-trust and love, they are opposite.
we are made in God's image, we are made in the image of LOVE, does that mean perfection is granted to all those who are believers?
depending on how you see life ,
the pitcher there, do you see it as half empty or half full
what about your gratitude towards your parents how do you see that glass?
Would seeing the glass as half full when you believe it is in fact as empty as a sponged, squeezed?
just give it a paradoxical shrug, these kinds of situations are difficult, but normal, bound to happen right?
God chose belief in my ordanement , redeemed aren't I ?
Redeemed until validated my the ticket holder of my life and heart, the judge of my doings, the criticism I openly accept, as long as it's through verbal or small practical eveyday spiritual acts . I accept that I am chosen for his kingdom, that his love has an actual warmth, sitting in a melting *** of the fireplace infused with the cold air knocking, like an unwelcomed visitor .
The irony sets in
we'd all had a good laugh at that, we'd laugh so hard and got it all on camera, I think we'd have a shot and one of those zestful family movies, we'd at least get a premiere on abc channel and its got just enough of a zoetiec vibe for lifetime.
the dictionary's failed attempt at defining the depth and the vague imprint it left on my brain, torturing me to awaken from my cocoon and speak,
for my ancestors and the divine woman that is Deidra, Thee divine woman(along with the help of the divine masculine) who taught me to open my mouth if you've got something to say,
Who knew that those words were seeds!?
I studied her as she sewed them everyday religiously, even on the rainy days when life seemed to be in the midst of hurricane force winds, she watered that garden the best she knew how and to me it is perfection.I'd try to convince her not to worry about my garden so much that she'd forget to have her flowers bloom
The divine woman a natural incubator , genetically undeniable that we are the divinity this world needs. She knew of my reaping harvest and that it would grow to be my inner voice, that is love.I am wise
you know what zoetic means to me?
zoetic is the slashes against my back until the age of seventeen, i think zoetic are the beautiful dressings that hold us
capture us, in fear of running off into something so beautifully damaged people might -pay more attention to the clown than the performance.
one of those and even the "non spitiual people",
what right did i have to be set apart from the world
an evolving theory that grows only in fondness and size of it's essence,
only air , unparalleled
you dare not have a speck of shame you, look in the mirror if you'd like but careful not to interfere with his creation, or its is a matter of time before your left like ...
adam and eve...
to have that privilege, to my mother
I imagined what our past-times would resemble, that you’d vacate my soul with a message, in times, I need, remember.
maybe it would be poetic, or wise in hindsight, something that’d force my mind to clear the mess in the backseat to make room for a new shotgun rider
an inquiry you leave me with daily, as our hands unmesh and I drift off into sleep, that is the only time you leave, and quickly appear as i awake, without you, How could i face the day?
A stone immortal you are, with no works of erosion, to seep through your cracks, your spirit un-touched, you are the concrete to my heart, unfinished knicks and knacks. i’d never put youdown, divine in me tells me “reach for your crown, it’s time we take a break, I’ll never leave you but it is now my time, to clear the backseat and make way.”.
as i watch her tidy up the backseat moving chaos and fear into the far right corner, she hops in the back and sits where I can see her,
navigating me, acting as an GPS, divine in me I trust in nothing less.