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Who cries for the little children
When pain and hurt fall upon
The little hearts of purest love
From the hands of the cruel and sick

Who cries for the little children
Locked up and fed a fist
Thrown around the floor like dust
No meals or drink no more

Who cries for the little children
When their voices are so mute
The only thing they know right now
Is life must be extinct

So let them fall into the arms
Of hearts that truly love
In sleep forever they rest now
And tears shall fall no more

She's gone

And all the years
of holding in
Of denying  my truth
in order to protect her
from-

     the truth ..

Of the horrors that she has done
Of the horrors
they both have done.

They are both gone now
No longer inhabitants
of this earth
No longer here
to bring the risk
of making little
what it was
that was not so very little

Even if they owned it
who could find the words?
There are not words
to describe the horrors

Are there left  enough years
to make up for the ones
the locusts have eaten?


    There  are no words
    to ever be able  to describe

    just  how  much  
    the locusts have eaten



🖕 ❤xo

https://youtu.be/GjAdjzsrEBQsi=HQdfY1cjlm8aOWq5
.
I struggle with my heart.
It’s so bruised. I’m still healing.
It feels tender to the touch.
When anyone gets close
a guard rises up out of my mind
to close off access.

Through the shield she peers out,
desiring love, to press against
another’s beating heart.
But she still bleeds sometimes,
the wounds don’t heal
like they do in the physical.
I don’t know how to close
the lacerations,
and so they remain open.

I look into myself,
and cry into my broken heart.
The astral tears are bitter
and cause the heart to ache.
Perhaps all that can be done
is to hold my broken pieces together,
and let time pass,
recreating me again and again.
Create so many new layers of me
that my heart is intact once again.
Day by day, choosing to be whole
will manifest a whole new being.
Time heals all wounds. Isn’t that what they say?

A six month whirlwind
of friendship--
mixed with  an
impassioned.. unexplainable,
   I  don't  know

Hope against hope:
the dream, Unfolded
right before  my own
deeply-imbedded cynicism;
As the most  incredible
Lazarus  of all
came forth from the tomb

I am angry at things of the past
and tell God that he hates me..
But I know it is just a lie

Your very existence  tells me
that his  hatred  of me
  is just a lie


Your love for me  undoes
every lie I have ever known


Beautiful Maria of my soul~
A death  of me..
A rebirth  of me
https://youtu.be/bb0GfyPZRnw?si=Gg4lAE88ZhYqJKLQ

#Love❤

A curse, deeply embedded into the DNA..
this is the inevitable fallout  of the love of man--
"Sins, passed down from fathers to the sons.."
even with the best of fathers, and the most tenderest of sons.
As in all things inherent within the confines of a fallen world,
this universal brokenness too must be worked out,
from a deep place within the heart and will of the carrier.
Little mini-carriers do not yet understand,  yet as they grow,
it is in an even more deeply- embedded trait within us
that tells us that we need to rise above
          that which now  quenches..   

               Our own rightful glory--
               the one that is ours to step into
               within the process of Becoming.

  There is always hope.   In the end,
                           death's current rein, loses;
                       Hell-bent on doing all it can
                       to keep us hidden from love,
it stoops so low as to even that of harming a child--
          through the dark-blanket-covering of  
          one's own little spirit..  in to concealment.
Always is there a threat, that if gone unchecked over time,
        that there would become a searing,
            but  also  a threat to one's little spirit,
is the risk of annihilation to their own little autonomy--
were they to crawl back into the womb  in deep  need
for love and protection from what now attempts
       to sear the little-one into complete removal
  from  love's  healing light.

It is the great oppression of the world,  that its inhabitants
have had to so very unfairly learn how to hide from Love--
and yes.. even at such an early age.  The injustice of it all
is overcome  when the struggler learns how to rise above--

             even that which causes most,
                    them to want to (or have to)  hide.

       This very struggle, if left unchecked
       (or becomes greatly multiplied through the horrors
       of childhood trauma)    that sadly,
            some little-ones are unjustly  forced  to endure..
these things can become the roots of what would/could  eventually
evolve into varying grades of schizophrenia
and/or   a whole slew of other mental/emotional disabilities.

Thus is the world, in how it becomes pinned down,
   and separated from Love..

the sad fallout, towards outcome..
for some.

           You (and those you love)
will not become one of these unfortunate ones,
my sweet friend.

            No...  no,  not at all.



Pass me that lovely little gun
My dear, my darling one
The cleaners are coming, one by one
You don’t even want to let them start

They are knocking now upon your door
They measure the room, they know the score
They’re mopping up the butcher’s floor
Of your broken little hearts

O children

Forgive us now for what we’ve done
It started out as a bit of fun
Here, take these before we run away
The keys to the gulag

O children
Lift up your voice, lift up your voice
Children
Rejoice, rejoice

Here comes Frank and poor old Jim
They’re gathering round with all my friends
We’re older now, the light is dim
And you are only just beginning

O children

We have the answer to all your fears
It’s short, it’s simple, it’s crystal clear
It’s round about, it’s somewhere here
Lost amongst our winnings

O children
Lift up your voice, lift up your voice
Children
Rejoice, rejoice

The cleaners have done their job on you
They’re hip to it, man, they’re in the groove
They’ve hosed you down, you’re good as new
They’re lining up to inspect you

O children

Poor old Jim’s white as a ghost
He’s found the answer that was lost
We’re all weeping now, weeping because
There ain’t nothing we can do to protect you

O children
Lift up your voice, lift up your voice
Children
Rejoice, rejoice

Hey little train
We are all jumping on
The train that goes to the Kingdom
We’re happy, Ma, we’re having fun
And the train ain’t even left the station

Hey, little train
Wait for me
I once was blind but now I see
Have you left a seat for me?
Is that such a stretch of the imagination?
Hey little train.. wait for me

I was held in chains but now I’m free
I’m hanging in there, don’t you see
In this process of elimination

Hey little train
We are all jumping on
The train that goes to the Kingdom
We’re happy, Ma, we’re having fun
It’s beyond my wildest expectation

Hey little train
We are all jumping on
The train that goes to the Kingdom
We’re happy, Ma, we’re having fun
And the train ain’t even left the station

https://youtu.be/igMg5fO7Gqc?si=pim380UShrcz5M_d

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