Margaret Elizabeth porta un senso assassino di vestiti da sposa stile a qualsiasi cosa che fa .Che si tratti di progettare per la sua linea di gioielli o styling il suo pad città .non c'è dubbio che questa ragazza è uno da guardare .Ultime sulla sua lista di successi ?Sposarsi con il suo bel fidanzato .sulle rive del Rhode Island.E ' tutto ciò che vi aspettereste da un designer di talento come un matto.e Leila Brewster non perde un colpo .Date un'occhiata nella galleria completa



di chicche (tra cui peonie rosa a'plenty da Sayles Livingston Fiori !) .E non perdetevi il film giorno delle nozze da 3 Belles Productions abiti da sposa 2014 .
Si prega di aggiornare il tuo browserShare questa splendida galleria ColorsSeasonsSummerSettingsCountry ClubStylesCoastal

Da Sposa ( progettista e proprietario di Margaret Elizabeth) .** sempre immaginato sposarmi presso il Dune Club .circondato da una grande varietà di familiari e amici .Il posto era davvero importante per noi .come abbiamo entrambi amiamo l'acqua e voleva sposarsi in riva al mare .Il Dune Club è un luogo particolarmente speciale per me causa di tutto il tempo che ** trascorso con la mia grande famiglia allargata .Mia nonna era una wedding planner incredibilmente di talento e abbiamo trascorso ore e ore seduto su quella spiaggia.molto sognare di questo giorno .Dal momento che lei non è più con noi .volevo essere sicuro che ** incorporato il maggior numero di elementi possibile da quelle conversazioni lato della spiaggia .

nostre tovaglie erano una di quelle cose .Abbiamo lavorato con biancheria La Tavola a venire con un corallo .crema e oro picchiettato schema dei colori e Sayles Livingston per tutti i fiori .Squadra Sayles ' creato le strutture ramo che pendevano sopra i tavoli .** amato questi perché hanno creato una sensazione che ricorda di Sonoma .in California .una delle nostre città costa occidentale preferita e il luogo del nostro impegno .Mentre l' arredamento e del nostro matrimonio era così divertente per la progettazione .la maggior parte del nostro weekend stava trascorrendo del tempo con tutti i nostri amici e parenti che si sono recati a Rhode Island per festeggiare con noi .

Il mio momento preferito del vestiti da sposa matrimonio era proprio dopo la cerimonia - Lane e mi aveva appena finito di camminare lungo la navata e abbiamo avuto questo momento breve dove c'eravamo solo noi in piedi sul prato .guardando verso l'oceano .È stato un momento tranquillo e bello che sarò sempre tesoro

Fotografia : Leila Brewster | Cinematografia : . 3 Belles Productions | Event Design : The Bride | design floreale : Sayles Livingston Flowers | Abito da sposa: Monique Lhuillier | Cancelleria: Smock Letterpress| Scarpe : Valentino | Altri Abiti : Ivy e Aster | Abbigliamento dello sposo : Hugo Boss | Catering .Torta + Dessert : The Dunes Club | Hair + Trucco : La La Luxe | Gioielli : Margaret Elizabeth | Biancheria: La Tavola | Veil + capelliaccessori: made ​​by Bride | Sede : The Dunes Club | vino: Bluebird ViniIvy \u0026 Aster e Monique Lhuillier sono membri della nostra Look Book .Per ulteriori informazioni su come vengono scelti i membri .fare clic qui .Sayles Livingston Progettazione e noleggio La Tavola bisso sono membri del nostro Little Black Book .Scopri come i membri sono scelti visitando la nostra pagina delle FAQ .Sayles Livingston design VIEW PORTFOLIO La Tavola bisso Affitto
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matrimoni

Newport non mancano mai di wow .E 'proprio quello che fanno .Deve avere qualcosa a che fare con i suoi panorami splendidi e fascino del vecchio mondo .ma sono abbastanza sicuro che le sue coppie eleganti che affollano i litorali più belli che davvero rendono speciale .Perché ci portano i matrimoni come questo a Castle Hill Inn .che è ancora tradizionale fresco .e tutto intorno incantevole.E con splendidi fiori da Sayles Livingston Fiori e immagini mozzafiato da Lindsey Rae Fotografia - semplicemente non migliora .Vedi tutto qui .

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ColorsSeasonsSummerSettingsOutdoorTentedStylesTraditional EleganceFrom Lindsey .Newport è sede di alcune delle più belle viste sull'oceano .nostalgico fascino del New England .e abiti da sposa 2014 riunioni di famiglia intimi .Così.quando Alexis e Will mi hanno invitato a catturare il loro matrimonio Castle Hill Inn sono rimasto basito !Entrambi hanno confessato quanto fosse importante per entrambi che il loro matrimonio non solo celebrare il loro abiti da sposa 2014 amore per l'altro .ma per le loro famiglie.Alexis e la volontà di Will è andato via con un intoppo !La loro giornata consisteva di deliziosi brindisi champagne.gite in tram .fiori a cascata .colori ricchi .cimeli e le tradizioni di famiglia.cocktail .incredibili - heart -felt discorsi .e una pista da ballo che non è mai



vuota
Fotografia : . Lindsey Rae Fotografia |Cinematografia : Daylight Films | design floreale : Sayles Livingston Flowers | Abito da sposa: Marco Zunino | Cake: Designs Confetteria | Inviti : Wedding Paper Divas | Scarpe : Jimmy Choo | Altri Abiti : Amsale | Catering : Castle Hill Inn | Boutique Bridal : KleinfeldBridal | DJ / Gruppo: Intrattenimento Specialisti | Hair + Trucco : SERAI Beauty | Luogo : Castle Hill InnAmsale è un membro del nostro Look Book .Per abiti da sposa on line ulteriori informazioni su come vengono scelti i membri .fare clic qui .Sayles Livingston Design è un membro del nostro Little Black Book .Scopri come i membri sono scelti visitando la nostra pagina delle FAQ .Sayles Livingston design VIEW
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he tickled me with love
i imagine
behind his merciless
IBM grin
sadistic chuckle

my grandfather loved me
built me a swing
a wooden airplane
gave me a bicycle
a cape to wear
he taught me pong and pitfall

wielding a brush-broom
handlebar-moustache
a favorite game of his was giving raspberries
testing limits
his iron fingers
wringing squeals of laughter sour
under breathless ribs
tear-eyed begging fits

his old white t-shirt
too small to hide his plump
hairy belly,
i'd tickled him there once
poked him where my cousins pointed
giggling

when the kick came
i felt it in the heart
more than the back of my knee
bent from the sudden
sneering force

when i asked him
years later
for a book from his dying bookshelf
he joked with a growl
the last emphysemic sentence i remember
he said to me
you gonna bring it back when you're done?

i remember
the rules of the tickle game
and love him back
for his sarcasm
firecrack generosity




.

Not A Poem: A Personal Message to Hello Poetry and A Pledge**

None of what has been going on here at Hello Poetry makes any sense but it is hurting many poets here and driving many poets/friends away (8 and counting)... my only thinking is that it is a deliberate attack not only on poets but poetry, and these web sites where poets gather and is part of a growing american culture of barbarity.. it's like those U.S. drone attacks done from behind closed doors that no one sees coming and then everything and everybody gets destroyed... it must stop and we must stop it!

For all those who are interested, I will do the same as Quinn has done and post ANY and ALL private messages that are character attacks or personal attack on me or my friends (if they allow); or ugly comments left on my poetry... Walt Livingston’s  comment on Quinn’s poem should not be tolerated here at HP, and called out for its inhumanity. It has nothing to do with poetry or the poem he left it on. Not one thing he said can be verified and this kind of thing has to stop. It’s like watching Fox or CNN news- ******* opinions posing as news and training us on what to think.

Also, for the record, if anyone receives a message claiming to be me do 2 things, first ask me if I actually wrote it sent it and 2 send it to me... I do not really know (that is I do not yet have the proof needed) who or how many are behind this, BUT I WILL NOT ALLOW THIS TO CONTINUE AS LONG AS I AM AT HP. And this goes for any other site I may visit. So please block me now all who think I will not stand up against plagiarism, attacks, harrassments, trolling, stalking, and any other form of oppression.

I also know that I may lose a few friends in doing this. To them, I can only say, that this is not a reflection on or directed to you in any way and I am sorry if this has hurt you, deeply sorry...

Aztec

PS  Oh, and by the way, the friends I am referring to know who they are, so if there are any questions about this,  message me and ask me.. no one has the right to declare friendship without my say so...

Wish I didn't have to say this, but since part of the sneak attacks have been done by people using other people's names to pick fights and attacks... yes it has gotten that bad.. That insidious...

So poets of HP, Let’s write poetry, support each other with mutual respect (even if and while we debate the content/ideas of a poem); build a community of poets that is a MODEL for the way human beings should and can treat each other, with mutual respect and listening to and seeing our diversity of ideas and nationalities as a great advantage to art and society and to ourselves... this is not a call for love and peace, since this will have to be fought for, nor is it a call to live and let live... there can be no place among human beings for these attacks... as well as no “free speech” for wreckers and attackers..
Let our language be poetry
Let our words be open and honest debate over poetry and art
Let our hearts be filled with fresh new ideas about life
Lets create wonderment and awe with our pen!!!!  
Come on HP poets, Lets Go!!

Aztec Warrior 1.25.16

a seagull singing so late at night
is unusual;
But remembering a book once read;
Johnathon Livingston Seagull;
nothing is unusual with seagulls

The rain pelts the window,
The Boyfriend who tries to get my attention,
Throwing its rocks at the window,
But I ignore and continue on with my work.

Mrs. Livingston wants a paper written
A 5 page paper
And Things like annoying rain mustn’t distract me.

Though the rain is easy to ignore
There is one thing that I can’t ignore.
Him.
He is there in the back of my mind
Occupying the space where numbers from math class should be,
Where my History homework on Napoleon should be,
Where He shouldn’t be.

Golden eyes flash before me once the room goes white,
A scent seduces my nose though it’s in my mind
Just a memory brought back to life
A ghost intruding when it need not.

Why? Why can’t he leave me alone?
Yet I know it’s not him that’s in the wrong
It’s me
And My gay ways.

Latching onto him
Clasping his words in its hands
Soaking up every syllable
Every word
Everything about him
Like a sponge soaking up the bubbles , suds, water, and germs.

The paper! I must get back to the paper!
He can’t be in my mind when I have much writing to do.
But
I like him.
More than like him.

I remember when at first I dug my heels into the ground
Refusing to fall
Then as time went on
The heels got eroded
The ground beneath me got eroded
My determination was eroded.
And
I
Fell.

An object forced to the ground not because of gravity
But because he had something about him
Something that made my body sing,
With bulking, twisting, and jittering.

Was it his smile?
That one little curve.
That one little curve with such shine
And such sweetness
It could melt ice
And have more sugar than a pack of Hershey Kisses.

Maybe his hair?
The constant loops
Of Wheat
Of sand
Of soft wool.
Taking me on a ride that never seem to end.

Or perhaps his Words and Speech?
The constant dragging out words
The sweet tune of the Hillbilly in his vocals.
Lost in his words that never made sense
Until I thought more of it.

Or maybe his demeanor?
The laid back student who dreams of going cross country in a van.
The one who seems to have everything figured when he can’t figure if he is up or down.
The one who attracts the negative and it turns to problems
The one who surprises me with his out of the blueness.
And takes me on such a high that it shatters by heart when he drops me.

I have to stop.
He is taken from me
That is a thought I mustn’t forget.
Why spend this time
Thinking
Wanting
Loving
Liking
Wishing
Hoping
When he has been taken from me.
I must finish the paper.
I don’t have much time.

I saw a little crab coming out the sea
snail shell greeting me.
I saw a ladybug
******* and welcoming
me on the beach.

Then I bathed in the luminous
sun rays naked.
Bare beauty of existence:

I let the lady bug go                
near the coast
to climb on the finest bush branch.
Thank you, happy-go-lucky!
I go as well. . . sweet lady

I saw grey green *****
running into the shade
hiding among sea rock
cracks. . .sea waves splashing over them.

I saw a lonely seagull staring at me
thoughtfuly aware. This reserve sharp,
piercing gaze surpised me ~ thinking:
"Who is this-lady occupying my bay?"

Then the seagull flew away landing
nearby on the baby waves, swaying
with a natural rhythm, drifting, white,
away, still aware of my presence.

I had to draw him within my mind
to capture the curve of his beak
and the orange yellow shade, eyes
thinking of other eyes, masculinity.

The body was The Livingston.  Pure
bonus. Of living. I saw all human beings
have this yearning soul, wanting to be
happy. Every inner light glows beautifully.

*Thank you ~ Majestic Universe! We are
never alone! Interconnected I am, happy,
content, loving each rock, pebble, soil~
tree, person, sunrise~music~sunset!
Every ripple's interference phenomena
caused by these amazing alive beings.
Morning around. . .

(I seldom publish anyone else's poetry, but this one is so exceptional on so many levels, I had to reproduce it here. Hillary Clinton reposted it, so why not me?)

“Education then, beyond all other devices of human origin,
Is a great equalizer of the conditions of men.” – Horace Mann, 1848.
At the time of his remarks I couldn’t read — couldn’t write.
Any attempt to do so, punishable by death.
For generations we have known of knowledge’s infinite power.
Yet somehow, we’ve never questioned the keeper of the keys —
The guardians of information.

Unfortunately, I’ve seen more dividing and conquering
In this order of operations — a heinous miscalculation of reality.
For some, the only difference between a classroom and a plantation is time.
How many times must we be made to feel like quotas —
Like tokens in coined phrases? —
“Diversity. Inclusion”
There are days I feel like one, like only —
A lonely blossom in a briar patch of broken promises.
But I’ve always been a thorn in the side of injustice.

Disruptive. Talkative. A distraction.
With a passion that transcends the confines of my consciousness —
Beyond your curriculum, beyond your standards.
I stand here, a manifestation of love and pain,
With veins pumping revolution.
I am the strange fruit that grew too ripe for the poplar tree.
I am a DREAM Act, Dream Deferred incarnate.
I am a movement – an amalgam of memories America would care to forget
My past, alone won’t allow me to sit still.
So my body, like the mind
Cannot be contained.

As educators, rather than raising your voices
Over the rustling of our chains,
Take them off. Un-cuff us.
Unencumbered by the lumbering weight
Of poverty and privilege,
Policy and ignorance.

I was in the 7th grade, when Ms. Parker told me,
“Donovan, we can put your excess energy to good use!”
And she introduced me to the sound of my own voice.
She gave me a stage. A platform.
She told me that our stories are ladders
That make it easier for us to touch the stars.
So climb and grab them.
Keep climbing. Grab them.
Spill your emotions in the big dipper and pour out your soul.
Light up the world with your luminous allure.

To educate requires Galileo-like patience.
Today, when I look my students in the eyes, all I see are constellations.
If you take the time to connect the dots,
You can plot the true shape of their genius —
Shining in their darkest hour.

I look each of my students in the eyes,
And see the same light that aligned Orion’s Belt
And the pyramids of Giza.
I see the same twinkle
That guided Harriet to freedom.
I see them. Beneath their masks and mischief,
Exists an authentic frustration;
An enslavement to your standardized assessments.

At the core, none of us were meant to be common.
We were born to be comets,
Darting across space and time —
Leaving our mark as we crash into everything.
A crater is a reminder that something amazing happened here —
An indelible impact that shook up the world.
Are we not astronomers — looking for the next shooting star?
I teach in hopes of turning content, into rocket ships —
Tribulations into telescopes,
So a child can see their potential from right where they stand.
An injustice is telling them they are stars
Without acknowledging night that surrounds them.
Injustice is telling them education is the key
While you continue to change the locks.

Education is no equalizer —
Rather, it is the sleep that precedes the American Dream.
So wake up — wake up! Lift your voices
Until you’ve patched every hole in a child’s broken sky.
Wake up every child so they know of their celestial potential.
I’ve been a Black hole in the classroom for far too long;
Absorbing everything, without allowing my light escape.
But those days are done. I belong among the stars.
And so do you. And so do they.
Together, we can inspire galaxies of greatness
For generations to come.
No, sky is not the limit. It is only the beginning.
Lift off.

Donovan Livingston
Harvard Commencement 2016

Ask me what I want to do, go fish
if I had a genie, it’s what I would wish
in the lake, river, creek or pond
eagerly cast next to a fern frond

Wiggle my bait and work it some more
hoping a fish cannot ignore
flipping up under docks
or the edges of piles of rocks

Working the tree stumps
waiting on a big thump
on my lure, adrenaline pumps
waiting for the end of my rod to jump

Bass, on Carolina, Alabama, or Texas rigs
crappie and pan fish I’ll catch on a jig
white bass and hybrids, on slabs and spoons
I have even caught them casting at  loons

Sam Rayburn, Cedar Creek or Lake Fork
I’m getting excited just like a dork
Tawakoni, Amistad, or Nacogdoches
if I ran out of bait, man I would use roaches

Livingston, Stryker, or the Trinidad  Lake
catching some fish, fry them up on a plate
bait cast, and spin cast, pushbuttons oh wow
I also can fly-fish, I taught myself how

Gar, carp and buffalo, anything that bites
looking for something to make my line tight
Matagorda, or Galveston, or Port A
I have no problems fishing  the bay

Intercoastal waterway or out in the surf
no problems cooking surf and turf
Black drum, Red fish or Speckled trout
as long as they’re biting I’ll never pout

Whiting, and Croakers and even Hardheads
catching are fun, getting the slime off you dread
gaff tops are pretty, but just as slimy nasty
I’ve never had any, I hear their pretty tasty

Flounders are flat and so are sting rays
but if that’s what’s biting I’ll fish everyday
jacks, and mackerel and bonnet head sharks
so many fish in the ocean, that’s just a start.

How about invasives, silver carp and snakeheads
cast for the snakehead, jumping carp in a net
I’ve fished lots of bass, native and Florida strain
but there is one thought that sticks in my brain

Is I’d like to go catch some peacock bass
top water action would really kick ***.
catch and release or serve it up in a dish
as you can see I really love to fish

AUTUMN CLOSING IN
CRISP TREES ALL AROUND
HUES OF LEAVES VARY
BRIGHTNESS TOO OLD
PEACE ON THE GROUND
OVERLOOKING POND
HINT OF PINE
FLOWERS ALONG THE WATER
RED LEAVES HANGING ON THE EDGE
PINE CONES SCATTERED
ON THE GROUND
IN THE AIR IS A FEELING OF HALLOWEEN
GHOST SPIRITS
DARKNESS APPROACHING
COSTUMES OF FUN
IT ALL HAPPENS, AFTER THE SUN
AUTUMN CLOSING IN
HALLOWEEN IN THESE SPACES
CREATIVE FACES
AUTUMN CLOSING IN

HALLOWEEN IN LIVINGSTON, AL

A very lavish party at the Livingston Manor
The mansion is nothing more than sheer elegance
It doesn’t matter if you are not significance
You are all invited
Everybody from who’s who
Don’t be surprised in who’s that
Well mingle around and converse
The party seems to be off to a good start
Look at that beautiful sophisticated woman in the corner with having pause, and introduce yourself and make your mark
But wait!
A stranger has entered the manor, but there is something about him isn’t right
He is scoping the room and seems uptight
Suddenly he pulls out a gun
He announces that everyone give up their jewelry and money
However, this stranger looks familiar
Now I remember, he is wanted for entering elegant affairs and robbing guest
However this party has a very expensive Diamond ring worth millions and 18 carrot of pure gold
Robert Livingston the owner of the man or is auctioning off the Diamond ring in his house
I am firmly believe that this stranger has a motive and I am determined to find out
Time to think let ****** she wrote
Listening and analyzing every word being spoke
I found some clues
The stranger was actually………………….

Suspense until Part 2

not so much as a poem but a quote by Richard Bach.
from Jonathan livingston seagull

we can lift ourselves out of ignorance, we can find ourselves as creatures of excellence and intelligence and skill

don't believe what your eyes are telling you,all they show is limitation.
look with your understanding.
find out what you already know and you'll see the way to fly.

(This poem can be sung to the melody of "Tammy" by Jay Livingston and Raymond B. Evans.)

You topped TV's televangelist scene.
Tammy Faye, Tammy Faye, you were the queen.
When hubby Jim Bakker was forced to come clean,
Tammy Faye, Tammy Faye, you were still queen.
Will we ever know
What it was
That made you tick?
And people still wonder why
Your make-up was so thick.
We can still picture your face with its sheen.
Tammy Faye, Tammy Faye, you were the queen.

When other preachers were badmouthing gays,
Tammy Faye, you had new pathways to blaze.
You offered them love in so many kind ways,
Even though there was much money to raise.
When the world was cruel,
So very cruel,
To people with AIDS,
Compassion for them became
One of your crusades.
Although people blasted your actions and mien,
Nonetheless, Tammy Faye, you were the queen.

-by Bob B (9-21-21)

As her faith
Grew
So did her
Courage
As her faith
Grew
So did her
Confidence
As her faith
Grew
So did her
Conviction.

Following in the steps of
Jonathan Livingston Seagull
She now soars
High above
The Flock

The Flock
She left behind
In search of
New worlds
High above
The sky.

There
She has found
Fun
Freedom
Fulfillment.

Whilst below
Way, way,
Below
The Flock
Struggles on
Oblivious!

Gull

We've got 'em bang to rights, the noisy screamers
and harbingers of our oceanic discontent;
Jonathan Livingston, George Barker, Chekhov,
fish and chips, snatched sandwiches, a certain
stink of half-remembered, half-digested fish.

Forgetting how huge they are is one thing; worse
is forgetting how gull they are, how unlike
anything else in the many wild kingdoms we
pompously incline to regard as our home despite
the anarchy of mosquito, buzzard, lynx.

A white head endangered among rocks, scrabbling
claws spread to meet the gust, there is nothing
romantic about this unseasoned life, bare feed
and guano, profitless, enduring, cold
as midnight, we think, is cold; but always cold.

In moments we are gull, instances of dream,
flapping from the black precipice, swooning
in the down-draught, knowing no knowledge
except the squawking mouths,. the endless need
revealed for a second in cowl of black and grey.

Once confessed my sins
To Fr. Ron Torina SJ
Also to Judi Kemerait Livingston
Dawn goes down to day

Used to read at Seattle U.
America Magazine on my lunch break
Homeless shelters can be chaotic
One day they say a Seattle earthquake

Once wrote to Walter Ong
His last name very unique
Sing a Dylan song
Sing for Susan Meek

SJW
That would be my mom
35 years later
Still can't forget the Prom

                     87!

At times I can see quite far ahead
But much is also dark
In Georgia Dr. Livingston
In Sacramento Mark

By Grabthar's Hammer
Agatha, Arthur, and Dash
We climb aboard their starship
The Captain is Johnny Cash

Mr. David Markson
Que Selah Selah
Gerard Manley Hopkins
Bright wings sings and ah!

When the Night is cloudy
I'm helped by two green lights
She sees me in the dawning
Gonna be some fights

               Mystic Flights

I have this simple if not profound question
No way could I be wrong
What would be the harm in living
Inside a Jimmy Buffett song

On a cool calming beach way out of reach
A tropical paradise further south
Than anyone could find some
Way of finding me out

With the latest in concoctions
Sipping back at the thrill
Having a few boat drinks
In Margaritaville

While defying gravity
On this big round ball
Just look at me pretty as you please
Inside a Jimmy Buffett song

Taking it all in naturally
Living in 3/4 time
Tell me my friend what could be the sin in
Making it one day at a time

I hear Livingston went to Texas
I'm about to do the same
As I raise a toast to those I know
Along the Gulf Coast way

I knew my life would end up
Sooner here than not
It's more like a grab than a give up
Inside a Jimmy Buffett song

When you make your way from Paris
To all points in between
You find there's no sense in caring
For the things that you don't need

I'm going to change my latitude with a new attitude
As I gently move along
Keeping the beat in the key of Sea
Inside a Jimmy Buffett song

Gonna be massive self doubt at times
Even self hatred
I know this by now
Slowly

Confidence will return
I still yearn
Fire burns
Lowly

Dr. Thomas was right
The kairotic moment!
Wait for it.
God speaks

Mis amigas
Trust them
Professor Livingston
Director Meek

          Still I seek

Rubies for Krishna
Moving to the left
Battle in Seattle
Rock of Ages cleft

Avatar of Vishnu
Moby **** a Whale
My cousin in Bangalore
Speechless seeking trail

Vegetarian sausage
Haymarket, Virginia
Jimmy Reed Indeed
And everything within ya

Gopi girls dancing
Ms. Susan Meek
Judi Kemerait Livingston
Thai Wai hide and seek

         Soup: potato leek.

Gonna be massive self doubt at times
Even self hatred
I know this by now
Slowly

Confidence will return
I still yearn
Fire burns
Lowly

Dr. Thomas was right
The kairotic moment!
Wait for it.
God speaks

Mis amigas
Trust them
Professor Livingston
Director Meek

          Still I seek

Gonna be massive self doubt at times
Even self hatred
I know this by now
Slowly

Confidence will return
I still yearn
Fire burns
Lowly

Dr. Thomas was right
The kairotic moment!
Wait for it.
God speaks

Mis amigas
Trust them
Professor Livingston
Director Meek

          Still I seek