Purify us!
So that we burn,
with your glory.
We are fragile selves,
Our egos are weak, so
That we crave our glory.
We hunger, we thirst
For the things of this world,
Purify us!
Burn the distorted lenses,
So that we can truly see,
You!

I
Try,
Over and over
Again.
I
Try,
Over and over
And over
Again.
I
Try.
I will
Not
Stop.

Connectivity drives us, compels us forward,
Technology, used unwisely, is the dark king of this age; that proclaims hope in wires connected underground and
Invisible signals shoot through the air, trying to share signs that we care, but
Ultimately, it severs us from reality and each other over there: digital Babylon.
Heads down, thoughts inward,
We don’t see the lost on the street,
We don’t see the lady lying in pain, covered in shame, trying to re-cover herself and start over again,
But, effortlessly, we switch off from that kid searching our eyes that he matters,
When we keep looking at ourselves, our next selfie: selfie addicts!
If we don’t post our newest vain attempt to connect, we turn to other drugs to numb the pain,
That our brain is craving to solve;
The receptivity issue.
So we need to switch off to switch on again to our indelible source of
Connection with real life within and with others out,
Who says spirituality doesn’t matter: it’s not for this day and age,
It divides and fuels us with rage,
But it does!
It is,
And it is to come.
Connection to the forever dimension, the reason for the ascension to
Reconnect us back to the truth again.

We have privilege and power;
How do we use it in this hour?
For money and fame,
To produce more of the same? Or
In humility seek,
Platforms for those who cannot speak?

Little girl, big brimmed hat,
alone, with suitcases,
traveling to boarding school she sat.
Wanting to be embraced by loving arms,
reassuring tones, peaceful pungent breaths, she calms,
but, the war loomed outside,
and onwards she tried.
The constant Chameleon: hairdresser, interiors, reporter and healer,
now, the season of inner healing to transform into a counsellor.
But, it’s the true counsel that she heeds,
to transform from the wounds that bleed.
May she hear from You, the One who truly heals.
May You lovingly embrace and hold all she feels.
May the little girl grow up into the woman You imagined,
And may she bloom into a lush garden with seeds You've planted.

This is life!
Living right now, every win, mistake,
Not heaven.
Don't be afraid, there's give AND take.
You don't have to be perfect!

This is life!
Every high and every ******,
******* low.
Don't be afraid, embrace the gritty;
Experiences that forge your character.

This is life!
The acclaim, blame, shame and every moment, just the same,
Can be refrained and reclaimed
Don't be afraid of happiness
And joy, life's not perfect!

There’s much more going on in my life,
Than just in this moment.
There’s a bigger story at large,
The story involves love and atonement.

Not just a job, a husband or health restoration,
But eternity.
Lift your eyes,
Keep them fixed above and not on modernity.

Go deeper still,
Get in under your skin,
Go to the heart,
And let true life begin.

The mind is amazing,
But it can often get us fixed.
On things of this world,
So lift your eyes higher to the mystery betwixt.

My superpower;
may not be the strongest,
but it’s advantageous.

Creates a path through;
the wilderness that life brings,
pain, joy and between.

My superpower,
loudest in silence;
where healing is permeating.

The time taken was not what I dreamed
of, craggy paths, dead ends, or so it seemed.
But now, with back a turn, I see a glimmer,
of the bigger picture, that calls me nearer.
With eyes wide open, listening ears;
a heart full and my spirit clear,
peace and acceptance: my purified pearl.

Pen on paper is like breath in my lungs.
It is my write to live;
Describing, birthing, embracing.
Permission to give.

But the pen used ineptly,
Causes death.
Like throwing my pearls to swine,
Snuffs breath.

See the world distinctly?
Pearls?
A kaleidoscope of memories?
Or lucidly look differently?
A beggar, or free from the constraints of Western reality?
New eyes take in all perspectives: perceptions,
Compelling new experiences: horizons.
Releasing shame; distorted distractions.
Embracing imperfections, peccadillos,
Layers of realities,
Depths, and
Rationalities.
Diversely.
Maturely.

I am bewitchingly beautiful.
My mind overflows with pearls by the mouthful,
Healing dawns in the crisp new morn,
But by noon I am worn ragged by the duel.

Noticing, I stop and rest,
And try to conjure truth: I am blessed.
Releasing all that stands contrary,
Reminding myself; I am hesed, crowned with righteousness.

Heroism comes in the form of a sweet smile, a helping hand and a kind word.