like a flower
she grows and blooms
nourishing the world around her
she colors the earth
with her petals
reminding you to
take a moment and breathe

she’s wild
and free
just there to be
to be loved
admired
touched
and most importantly
she’s there as a blessing
from mother herself
to show you creation
the divine
how soft yet powerful
you can be

This gig
This “being my best self” business,
This sunny day after the storm
Is pretty rough.
With wind blown trash from last week
(Or last decade) all over the soul
It is exhausting today, to
Focus on today’s business.

Some other day will be enchanting, Exhilarating,
I’ll be Wonder Woman
Or
Maybe I’ll be just enough, ok?
And putting one foot in front of another will come a little
Easier, next day
Even if Van Der Klok assesses the score and my kind intentions are a bit lopsided today, and my hair;
There will be
Another day
For me.

These conflicting emotions and thoughts always get the best of me and take control. Sinking their teeth into my brain, releasing their venom so it’s always on my mind. I want to just give up and stop trying to take back control. Just give in completely. Let it all go. I’m so tired of trying to hold on and it’s useless anyway. I may or may not have put up a good fight, but the war was fought and the battle is done. It has won. This is the time to surrender and admit defeat.

Prowriting aid style score: 100%

All those years of being trapped by words unable to hear the birds.
All those years of being suffocated to speak unable to reach the highest peak.
All those years of sitting alone waiting to be grown.
Waiting to break free from what was thought to be rock bottom.
All those years of discomfort and uncertainty led me to today,
Full of triumph and determinedly.

Every morning
I thank the little ray of sunshine inside of me.
The one who believed life could still be something extraordinary.
Even when the brutality of the world was enough to gnaw her up & spew her out.
Even when the cliff was right at her fingertips to end it all.

That little ray of sunshine still chose life
& I’m forever in debt with her.
I owe it to her to make something remarkable & gentle of myself.

On the days I’ve succeeded,
I gently put my hand on my heart
& softly speak the words, “this is for you” to her!

“Do you have any sage advice for me ” my friend asked after we discussed a beautiful solo act of spoken word combined with the playing of the Harp. The talented performer is a woman named Amanda Peckler. I thought about my friends question, taken aback with honor – and a bit of imposter syndrome.

My head spun with the amount of answers I could say; I gave so many answers to his one question, I could not even remember what I said.

“I envy your way of thinking,” he said.

“You admire it, not envy.”

After sincerely crediting my mentors for the ability to think the way I do, I explained:

“Most of the time, we can try what we envy:

Next time you envy someone for their talent, change it to admiration.

Inevitably you are going to struggle the first time; just remember:

Even the advanced were once beginners.

You’ve been my shadow for as long as I can remember, lurking in the corners of my mind, whispering doubt, exhaustion, and fear into every crevice of my soul. You’ve made yourself at home in my thoughts, convincing me that stillness is safety, that failure is inevitable, and that I am nothing without you.

But I see you now. I see how you twist my reflection, how you tangle my dreams in barbed wire, how you drag your fingers through my happiness just to watch it unravel. I hear the lies you tell me—that I’m not good enough, that I’ll never change, that I should just give up. And I won’t pretend your voice isn’t loud. It is. Some days, it’s all I hear.

But guess what? I’m still here. I’m still writing, still fighting, still daring to want more than the prison you’ve tried to build around me. You’ve stolen too many moments, too many dreams, too many days where I could have felt joy but instead felt only your weight pressing down on my chest.

So, I’m making something clear today: You don’t get to win.

I won’t say you’re gone, because I know you’re always lurking. But I will say this—I am learning to live around you, despite you, and in defiance of you. Every time I write, every time I create, every time I move forward even when you’re clawing at my ankles, I am reclaiming myself.

You are not me. You are something I carry, something I battle, but you do not define me.

I do.

And I choose to keep going.

Sincerely,

Me

Can you see the sway of my hips,
how they speak to the beat of these drums?
Can you hear the rhythm—
the language of our silence,
unspoken words rising like smoke?

I build bridges over rivers of oppression,
each step a prayer,
each twirl a testimony.

With the swing of my skirt,
I sweep away the struggles of women like me—
bold, bruised,
but never broken.

We are complex,
layered like rhythms in the night.
Not just survivors,
but storytellers with sacred fire in our feet.

We arrived in chains,
yet even in bondage,
we birthed grace.
White dresses flow—symbols of peace,
clarity,
and the breaking of curses
tied to spirits lost in new lands.

Oh, when I hear that rhythm,
it stirs my soul.
Something ancient rises,
something wild and free.
We dance ‘til the moon forgets to rest—
laughin’, shoutin’,
spinnin’ rebellion into joy.

This is resistance.
This is remembrance.
This is us.
A dance of rebellion is here.

Dear Unsealed,

What Do I Fear?
I fear the lack of personal contact,
This time of year, we lack
The touch of humanity.
I fear being old.
But that must be.
I am old, bold.
I fear losing social security,
Fear of losing my healthcare,
Literally please be aware.
I fear the things that aid old people who are our elders.
That assist those of advanced age,
Will be hi-jacked and stolen by mean people,
Who plan to take over our living stage at old age
Control us,
Minimize old people,
The disabled, and others,
Shove us off as if we don’t matter to others.
To fear is normal,
Fearing is cool,
Fear is formal.
Fear is me,
Afraid of lying fools.
Being reluctance to talk,
Fear is how to talk,
Fear is being unable to walk
Even a short distance,
For instance.
To fear is true blue,
Fear is tolerating the ultra-conservative fool.
Fear is so many things in 2025.
I am an empath,
A dreamer, psychic.
I do not carry wrath,
But observe others,
Quietly,
Around my psyche.
I fear being homeless,
fearing is being without work,
to fear is being old, bold, and careless.
Fear is losing all benefits.
Fear is being hungry.
A list of fears is so boring and long,
asunder.
One’s a fool to think they care.
The fool,
The leaders plan a dire dismissal
Of whom they dislike.
Spiteful, they cause chaos
In everyone’s life.
So, I will write.
Not out of spite,
But to release feelings of the night,
To spread light through the day.
Faith keeps me strong.
I tackle fear with music and song,
Visual art,
No farts.
I carry on,
Despite my fear of judgment,
By people who do not care.
I fear falling into their snares,
Of lairs rotting in their lion’s dens
Of inequity and warped sin.
I fear nothing but fear itself.
Once a prolific phrase,
It spread fear itself.
Doublespeak is a chaos nightmare.
This fear.
It makes me aware.
The silver screen of life surrounds us all.
I am awake.
I see the lies of mean people.
Make no mistakes.
Their rules are tools
For their brains,
Insane.
I am awake.

100 percent score

april 21
a journal on fulfillment
unfortunately, I have spent a great deal of my thoughts on the ponderance of what it means to be fulfilled. how we quantify it, test it, live it. most of my 11:11 wishes wish for fulfillment. I know I’m not supposed to give away what I wish for, but that’s not all of it. I’ll keep the rest a secret. I’m under the belief that the majority of people die unfulfilled. the sole thought of going hungry, going broke, going homeless, terrifies people more than the feeling of never finding anything they are passionate about, never falling in love, never feeling like themselves, never feeling as if they’re living out their truth.

I fear both.

but I fear never following my passion more. it’s scary to know that money has to be earned and there is no task I currently wish to do in exchange for cash. purpose is so subjective yet as a society, I feel we have found a way to objectify purpose and place it in a see-through box to be displayed. everyone is looking at you, the pressure is on. inside the box, you must do what is subjectively providing a value that has money as currency. I’d rather have fulfillment as currency, get paid in love, joy, contentment, on my own terms. I choose to validate my inner truths rather than suppress them as I believe everyone ought to spend enough of their life digging deep enough within to understand who they are. instead of letting the world tell you. the world tells everyone who to be when they listen to it. but your soul will tell you who to be if you choose to listen to yourself. I think you can only hear yourself when you allow enough quiet, the only thing you can hear is your own production of thoughts, ones that were not placed in your brain externally but created in original form, strictly for your own acknowledgement.

I think a lot of people fear the quiet because they do not like to face the truths of self. most people are numbing themselves with alcohol, drugs, smoking, hooking up with strangers, partying, everyone seems to have a vice. it’s socially acceptable, even. but what is the true motive behind all of these? most people are deeply uncomfortable with the thoughts that arise when they allow enough silence in order for them to do so. and everything has a cost. everything is an energy exchange, for good or for bad.

when I was in the worst mental position I have ever been in, I hated being alone. I wanted to fill every silence, spend as much time with others, and numb all my thoughts with drinking, partying, or even eating. we find comfort externally to mask the internal turmoil we are destined to feel at some point in our lives. but acceptance of the good and the bad will allow the upheaval of the bad. as when you accept the dark parts of you, you shine a little light on them. over time, they transform to light. you can create life from death. there is renewal in endings. there is a golden nugget in everything that sucks. but if you spend too much time ignoring the darkness, you will never know how well the light within you shines.

it’s so easy to follow a path and I wish there was one that made sense for me to follow. it would allow be much easier. but I feel as if I have gotten too comfortable with the depths of myself that I can never go to a surface level to complete a mission not created by the innerworkings of my soul. I’m too deep into the acknowledgement of who I am to skip over, neglect, those parts of me. whatever I end up doing in life has to touch my soul in some way. and maybe that will allow me to open up as a vessel of light to others. or maybe it will only go as deep as to shine through myself, never reach anyone. I think my purpose will someday reach others through myself, but maybe it won’t.

nonetheless, in order to feel as if you have a reason to live, you have to feel like you are fulfilling a purpose or achieving something. that looks different for everyone. but in general, working towards any sort of goal provides meaning in your daily life. I truly believe those who take their own life felt as though day to day life was not fulfilling. they felt as if everything they were working towards had no meaning, a complete lack of passion or care for how they were spending their time. the exchange of their time was not providing any sort of deeper satisfaction. a complete lack of satisfaction. that’s why I think even people who are depressed, when they are working towards something, never switch over to being suicidal. because they have a reason to be alive every day. I have met a handful of people in my lifetime who have openly admitted to being suicidal in their life at some point. and they said the reason they never did it was because they felt like they still had some sort of reason to be alive. for some people, they started training for something like a marathon or even just a weight loss journey, and every day, it gave them a reason to be alive. some people have a pet they have to feed every day; and if not them, the pet would not be alive. or they have a promotion they are working for, and it gives them purpose day to day.

but the key to this point is that you have to like what you’re doing, feel as though it is fulfilling a part of you that has been empty. people who feel directionless, or as if they are fulfilling someone else’s dream are more likely to be depressed, or even suicidal. that’s why the distinction of the soul’s desires from worldly placement is astronomically important.

we actually have a very long life to live and that often gets ignored in the urgency of chasing money. motives have been skewed to the value you can provide for others rather than the value you can find within yourself.

the debate I have been internally struggling with for some time is whether or not my personal fulfillment is worth the potential external failure. on the outside looking in, dropping everything and going broke to do the Camino de Santiago sounds reckless and a waste of time. but my purpose comes from soul searching, spending time with the Creator, and feeling within myself. the woods are my element and the answers of what it means to be human, for me at least, exist within them. walking every day from Albergue to Albergue will provide my purpose. and mine alone. for I claim my own direction. while walking every day provides no benefit for the world around me, the world inside me will be nurtured in a way money cannot buy.

that’s the problem, we focus on the things money can buy. we assign value in what can be purchased by paper we earned in exchange for our time. we are told not to focus on anything else as most people feel like spending time delving into the significance of human existence has no real intrinsic value. as they fear the confrontation of any spirituality. but I would argue the sole reason we are here is to uncover all the parts of our soul that are flooded with meaningless jargon pressured upon us as a distraction from who we really are and why we’re here.

when we leave the earth behind, you’ll die with all the things you have acquired. and if you spent a lifetime creating a soul that will ever last death, your fear of death will evaporate. but those finding fulfillment in chasing wealth and materialistic things to quantify, will fear death, likely laying on their deathbed thinking of all the things they should have done, the things that once mattered to them that perhaps had no external, objective value.

when I look back on the 24 years I’ve lived thus far, all my most rewarding and valuable moments have not earned me any money or have provided me with anything tangible. they have all been moments that I felt my soul was nurtured. that’s what life is all about. nurturing our soul and dying with moments that live on.

Dear Unsealers:

It’s Easter Sunday.

For those that celebrate the day, I hope that it’s an enjoyable day for you. I hope that everyone has a wonderful Sunday, no matter where in the world you are.

Here’s to the hope and possibility after the lenten season has concluded.

With a nod to the Urbi et Orbi message from the Pope in Rome, this is my message from NYC to the world:

After forty days of Lent
Easter Sunday has arrived

A day to celebrate
The rising of the son of God

With euphoric joy in the holiest spirit
We praise all that life brings

With the world blooming all around
Everything’s possible!

From me to you and yours
From NYC to the world…

Happy Easter!
¡Felices Pascuas!

Pazko on!
Bona Pasqua!

Joyeuses Pâques!
Buona Pasqua!
Cásca Shona!

Feliz Páscoa!
Καλό Πάσχα!
Sretan Uskrs!

Mary Jane got me ohh so high,
Your genetics done changed my life.
I thank God to this very day, for
Another peaceful night, for word play.
You’ve done evolved my DNA.
Oh how I love your,
Potent indica dominant strains.
Sparks the receptors, as I search
To put these words in place.
Oh how I love your vibrant fragrance.
I love how help me through,
The stressful day’s.
Got neurons flooding
My brain. Looking for and
Connecting different things to say,
You spark my imagination.
Opening up a variation of
Ways. When I was hurt
You helped me innovate.
Had to do this for a special occasion.
Was built off some chronic
Mixed in with a Lil pain.
A different meaning
For “chronic pain”.
Might have to get a prescription
Just to keep me sane.
Had to celebrate your holiday.
Happy 4-20 it’s a special day.

Crying
Diapers
No sleep

Your EYES

Screams
Anxiety
Hair pulling

Your LAUGH

Hunger
Dehydration
Not clean

Your CUDDLES

Depression
Tired
Worries

Your TINY FINGERS

Anger
Restless
Headaches

Your SMILE

Your Scared
Your Hungry
Your Learning

I’m HERE

Nurse
Cook
Maid

I’m MOMMY
in love with every part of you……….

This life… is but a vapor… without a second thought you’d capture the moment by taking a pen to your wrist…
And letting your heart bleed out on the paper….
Inspiration, devastation, any other proclamation…
Yet trying to write now just feels like forced dedication…
What happened to that fire? That desire? It’s like our pen has dried up, and the situations dire
What happened to the endless words rattling around that drove us to the brink of insanity?
What happened to the ability to tug at the heartstrings of humanity?
People used to say that what we wrote felt so real…
But it’s because your words expressed our heart unsealed…
All our pain, all our anguish,
Every unfulfilled wish
Even as we traversed from glory to glory,
Your words expressed our story
Yet stressed here I am
Trying to string together words that don’t mean a damn thing
There’s no voice, there’s no heart…
How can I read what I write now, and try to say that it’s art?
Posting poems from the past, but how long can that last?
I am not you, and I fear that our time together is through…
Like how were you able to write an entire poem from being hit by a droplet of dew?
You could put one hundred and ten poems inside of a book
All to tell one story, simply from its tones alone;
All our highs and our lows
Our joys, and our woes…
But I’m sitting here now like, “is this as far as it goes?”
Have I nothing more than this?
Here I stand at my precipice
Grasping at the wind beyond my reach
With eyes like an ocean, til they burn red
Rivers of dread flow, as I shake and I quiver
Each drop crashes like a tsunami atop this wilted rose I hold in my hand
The petals have been washed away… no beauty remains
Only the thorns buried beneath my flesh, tearing at my very soul
I never would’ve thought writing so much could take such a toll
To break through, I know not what I need
My heart… has run out of blood to bleed…
There’s no path ahead…
Nothing to say that I haven’t already said…
Here I stand at the ledge… ready to lunge…
Ready to take that fateful plunge…
Embracing the free fall…
As I give up on writing anything at all…

But yet in this moment the wind gives its gust
With a gentle whisper it tells me, “trust”
“Walk by faith and not by sight.
There’s no reason for you to be filled with fright.
Take the step and be full of delight.
Harken unto Me, and what I declare.
For together we will dance across the air.
The words that have been shrouded in the clouds will again shine their light.
The voice you seek will soon echo aloud.
Sending ripples, causing waves,
Causing dead bones to rattle in their graves.
Testifying of the One by whom mankind shall be saved.
This isn’t the end of your story.
For I have chosen you to write of Our coming glory.”

Lo! That mercy would look upon my tired eyes
That the winds of heaven would hear my frustrated cries
With no blood left to bleed…
No might, nor power left within myself to carry me through this hour
But by Thy Spirit, I will continue to fight
By Thy Spirit I will continue to write for any who shall hear it
For Thy testimony is my delight
Lo! This shall not be my end
I’m trusting that higher yet I shall ascend
So let ye joyful trumpets sound in celebration
For the shackles and chains of this writer’s block I refuse to succumb
Yay! I say I shall be unbound
I’ll let this Spirit fueled heart beat like a drum of liberation
Pounding with a “bum-bum-de-bum”
This burning sensation shut-up deep in my bones;
Words yet without form… groaning’s waiting to be born
As the tumultuous storm clouds clear… their image draws near…
I can see them…
At last…
I am free…
This weightlessness…
Unburdened by stress…
Yes… I can feel it deep in my core…
If I take this step… I know I shall soar
I shall waltz on the wind, as a sparrow in the daytime
As a spider with its web, I’ll weave these words into rhymes
I’ll mold them into the most lustrous silk
And their taste shall be sweeter than honey and more nutritious than milk
No longer shall I live in fear that I’ll never be the writer you were again
The rose petals of this pen will bloom once more
And now I sit in anticipation to see what creations are in store…
Indeed… this blocks been broken through
For my passions been born anew

Dear Unsealers,
I wanted to share with you a poem I wrote about Time and how we spend our time. At the end of time, what will others remember? I originally started this piece in 2021 & finished in 2023, Taylor Vance.

We have GOOD times
We have BAD times
We have SAD times
We have MAD times
We have GLAD times
We have HARD times & we have felt like time wasn’t on our side.
We have had times of JOY & we have wished that we could avoid a certain time.
We have FOUGHT at times & CRIED at times
We have HIDDEN at times & SHINED at times
There has been times I wish we never had
There has been times we can never take back
There has been times we will never get back
There has been times we talked shit & times we have been up shits creek. And GOD knows we have never been on TIME!!! But I would never rewind time, for it’s only been a short time we have had together, & it’s only going to get better in due time.
For all the hard times we weathered past, present, or future, as we expected.
For the rest of our time, we will make the best of our time to love one another until we have NO more time, while we wait, our story will continue, so in the end, we know we didn’t make a complete mess of our time.
Now I ask you to take a little time to remember how you use your time. Because all you get in this life is TIME & CHOICES, my advice to you is to be wise with both. At the end of time, we are to have No regrets, No second chances, for there will be No time to look back. Because at that time, when our hourglass has finally run out of sand, we can’t flip it over and start again. So what will the ones we leave behind remember of OUR TIME?
Written by: Taylor Vance 2-2023

Let go.
Let go—
of people who no longer walk beside you,
of things that weigh down your spirit,
of places that no longer feel like home.
Let go—
of the self you no longer recognize,
of the inner voice that whispers doubt,
of labels that confine your essence.
Let go—
of habits that dim your light,
of relationships that drain your energy,
of mistakes etched in yesterday’s shadows.
Let go—
of the past that clings,
of the future that looms,
of the fear that stifles the present.
Let go—
of perspectives that no longer serve,
of wounds that ache in silence,
of hurts that echo in your heart.
Let go—
of your first love’s memory,
of your last love’s goodbye,
of the scarcity mindset that limits your abundance.
Let go—
of all that was once known,
of truths that no longer resonate,
of anything that doesn’t align with your soul today.
Let go—
to move forward,
to welcome unwritten chapters,
to embrace the story only you can write.

Hello.
Hello—
to new faces that light up your path,
to new things that spark joy,
to new places that feel like belonging.
Hello—
to beginnings that stir excitement,
to opportunities that beckon growth,
to chances that invite courage.
Hello—
to loves that nurture,
to abundance that flows freely,
to the present that grounds you.
Hello—
to yourself,
to your essence,
to the life you are destined to live.

Let go—
to surrender to your journey,
to trust in your becoming,
to write the story that is uniquely yours

I’m exhausted but not that lack of 8 hrs of sleep exhausted.
I’m exhausted from putting peoples needs first.
I’m exhausted from checking in with people that don’t check in with me.
I’m exhausted from putting in the work and everyone else just goes on with life.
I’m exhausted from feeling their emotions and suppressing my own.
I’m exhausted and it’s not from the lack of sleep exhausted.
I want to feel alive.
I want to feel refreshed.
I want to feel my own emotions.
Care for my own needs.
I want to escape the burnt stage of life and capture the awareness of the day.
I’m exhausted from being exhausted!
When will I breathe again?
That is the question!

Do you not see how strong you are?
How worthy you are?
How loved you are?

All those sleepless nights prepared you for the best sleeps of your life.
Those uncomfortable mirror talks set you up for those beautiful reflection affirmations.
Those in and out acquaintances part of your life were just props to what led you to today.

The most strongest, worthiest, and lovable woman the Universe could have!

Falling in love ought not be such a terrifying act
Is it as daunting for you as it is for me
I sit in wonder what my life would be
Minus all the heartbreak and perpetual agony
Would I be the type to trust “I love you”
Would I be the type to trust at all
If only I’d been shown
If only the words “I love you” came from those already grown

Eye see you
Do you see me?
Soul to soul
Yet oceans away.

Is it weird
To not only ask
For one more night—
But for you to stay?

They say love lasts for a lifetime,
But every minute apart
Feels like you’re eons away.

Eye see you.
Eye see the star you are.
I see the parts of your soul
You try to hide.

Could it be
That you are my soul tribe?
Or maybe my mate…
Either way it goes,
This union feels divinely great—
Almost as if it was fate.

Bashert.
Eye see you.
Soul to soul.
Fated love so true.
Eye see you.

Bashert, my love,
For you is destined to be.

⸻

My soul searches for you,
But eye cannot find
Where you are hiding…

Some days I am rain.
Other days, I am earth.
Some days I am air.
Other days, I am fire.

I scorch new paths to rebirth.
But will you still love me the same
On days when I can’t flow like water—
When I bring storms, lightning, and rain?

I might blow my fuse and explode,
Blowing like wind…

But the river of my love is ever flowing
Into oceans of understanding,
Deeper than the cosmos—
The great gift of knowing.

That you are my Baz, and eye you.
My soul sees your soul,
As the light of this
Divine union shines through.

Bashert, my love—Bashert.
For the Divine One
Designed me just for you.