I write with the hope
that you may find truth in my words
your truth
not mine

I look in the mirror, trying to remember who I am. Is what I see, is everything, I desire to be?

Or is it merely a reflection of exactly who I am.

Sometimes, the unknown drives me into madness. Not being able to understand, who is truly behind the eyes I see.

In my reflection.


The eyes are the window to the soul, but I can not see, all I see is Jesus the

Christ living in me, all I am is all I try to be is good enough be be there one

that I am called to be, the reflex hat I see is who I am but is it all that I can be

Inchoate truth,
No, you are not yet real,
How quiet you are inside,
As though I'm seeing but not hearing a family through a window,
Oh, my very own inchoate truth,
It would not do to love you,
It is not yet love that will see your arrival into the world out there.