A woman in her comfort zone lies on a sea of mystery, lost for words as she tries to figure out her next source of inspiration. She contemplates what activities she will pursue next and what creative ideas she can incorporate into her work.

Nothing brings more joy than the warmth of inspiration that fuels your writing, while your inner child finds wings in laughter. The combination of medicine and animals makes the day intriguing, but it can be challenging to find the answers needed to keep things progressing.

An angel sits, pondering with a stone and a stick in hand, wondering to herself what she will get into today. Lost in thought, she tries to figure out how she can empower her day to be more to her liking. As she contemplates, she watches her cat zoom up and down the living room while her beast shuffles through the clutter, searching for something to do next. Outside, an elephant roams through her garden, treating her delicate plants as if a storm were brewing, although it is just another typical day. As the angel gathers her thoughts, the skies seem to empower her mind, even though she feels blank. As the breeze flows through the day, she hopes her creativity will spark new adventures.

Time passes while we hold onto hope, yet the fear of waiting for that hope can create a rift that tears things apart. People often say that hope can be a powerful force for overcoming challenges, but what if the hope you’re waiting for leads to different outcomes? Some may anticipate a positive change in their lives, while others might feel that it could bring about the worst situation imaginable. So, ask yourself: what do you do when hope finally arrives? How do you determine whether things will get better or worse?

I can’t say I’m scared
nor terrified
It’d make me look
as if I’m a hypocrite

I’ve been comfortable
for far too long
Letting someone in will
cause so much fog

I deserve to be loved
not just by me
But loved by a king.

I deserve to be
someone’s queen.

Her world was so black.
It consumed even
the slightest of color.
Her journal was the only
place she felt
safe to wander.
Decades later
Color is the brightest consumption.
Her journal – softest eraser
to her nervous system.

Courage it takes courage .young mom working three jobs just barely surviving. Grown up now into an adult she never gave up she never stopped trying. She got up everyday and gave every morning the best she had. Her own family knew whe was different instead of the support they gave her a backhand. She made her own goals her own dreams and her own family. The only thing that kept her going was her faith which lead to her victories over the enemy. Here she sits in the middle of another battle it’s difficult but there’s one thing she knows this is her year her moment and every time the enemy thought he broke her, she got up gave the pain a purpose and pushed stronger. Her children and her heavenly father were here motivation to change the world we live in starting with her . She started in the mirror daily stating affirmations that she was worth it Jeremiah 29 11 being her most favorite. She made her bed in the am did her makeup and got dressed to impress even if she wasn’t going anywhere to her this made perfect sense. She didn’t for in in the world because she was changed when Christ came Into her life. Her presence has an essence a sweet aroma, it draws people in miles from her. Her presence lights up the businesses and rooms, some of which don’t want to charge her because they know there’s just something about her. Everywhere she goes she gets gifts she uses to think it was just a coincidence. Thankful greatful and this girl is definitely blessed.

Dear Unsealers,

It’s the first day of June.

Though, you wouldn’t know it by the way the wind is raging outside right now. It’s actually chilly. As if the season’s are signaling that a change is up ahead.

With the new month beginning, it’s only right to welcome it in. I’ll do so here…

Time is flying by
The month of June has arrived

Thirty new days are here
Spring’s around, not much longer
There’s a hint of warmth ahead
Summer’s near

A month to honor our fathers
And be in awe of the Pride on display

Otherwise, it’s another blank slate
Of wondering how to fill time

To keep the dancing days going
Or, take a beat to clear my head

Six months into the year
With the halfway point of 2025 almost here

I wonder silently…
How did we get here?
Where’s everything going?

Sitting here at this table
With thoughts running wild
Thoughts of how
I’ve made it this far
From where I’ve come
Thoughts of wanting
To quit this journey
For I’m the only one on it

Sitting here at this table
With such appreciation
For what I’ve created
Appreciation that some days
Feel as if I may relapse
For how great I’ve been
Appreciation for what
Was given to me
In the mix of
The black shades of life

Sitting here at this table
Grieving the me
That was abducted
From the black shades
Grieving the me
Who is no longer
Available for reach
Grieving the one
That is today
For tomorrow is new

Here I sit at this table
With such praise in my heart
Praise in my step
Knowing it’s okay to relapse.
Praise in my soul
Knowing each version of me
Will end in an abduction

This table is my healing space
And it’s not for everyone

As the world basked in sunshine and heat, majestic creatures roamed. In the sea of green, small fire holes began to appear, creating a striking contrast. The flames grew larger, popping out of the holes as the vibrant green liquid spread across the river. This dynamic activity caused the fire holes to diminish in size, especially as waves of blue took over the river, with birds joyfully calling out their laughter. When the sun set, it revealed that the river glowed with even more blue, and the once-visible fire holes had completely vanished.

A mountain is on the verge of erupting. A layer of thick skin is evolving over the fire, but the layers are running thin. Water comes down from the heavens to soothe the fire, but the ashes are reaching their highest peak. In the end, the altitude runs short, causing the mountain to dry up and break apart. Will it ever reach the light again and restore its peak?

As the water trickles down, the foundation begins to crack under pressure, just as the bruises fade. The wind in the air is thin, even as time counts down to the end. When will the light finally grow into an unbreakable chain?

Dear Unsealers,

“Bucephalus” is a protest poem about the violence we inherit, the pain we normalize, and the strength it takes to break those cycles. I wrote it to examine the ways masculinity can be distorted by trauma, and how empathy often gets buried beneath performance. This poem speaks to the cost of silence and the quiet resilience of those who choose tenderness in a world that teaches them to harden. It’s a reminder that even the deepest wounds can bloom into something honest—and that too is power.

Bucephalus
The formation of the soul is a seed in the earth,
forged in pressure, blooming through trauma.
Divine mother, singer of arias—
violence takes the limbs from a miner
in an act of endless cruelty.
The acrid scent of sulphur is the last gravestone
where innocence mourns at midday.
By the deathbed of an absent father,
or the bedside of a son who accepts affection
in the slap of abuse’s caress.
We live in a world of dogs dressed up as lions.
One’s suffering is another’s pleasure. Homophobic chauvinism—
masked insecurity; an aversion to kindness,
to the laughter of children.
Those who piss have prayers as well.

A soul adrift in uncharted terrain, she questions all she’s known. Past trials seemed unbearable, yet now she doubts every step. Her words, a desperate cry, poured onto pages in verse and prose. But from her lines, I sense no escape, only loss and shattered dreams. Everything she stood for, believed, and fought for all for nothing.

Life is like walking on a bridge; it can crumble and break when the energy is off. Twists and turns will appear along the way. When you find yourself in a tough spot, breathing becomes harder when there’s nowhere to run. The mind and balance can only handle so much, and if you’re alone, there’s no escape. How can one person sort everything out and stay alive?

A woman without her chariot has lost all hope and ponders. She sighs, thinking, “How much more can the atmosphere around me crumble?” In the lost cage that was her home, she counted the days and waited patiently for some light to appear.

Vibrant with excitement,
Smiles that brighten
The evening, like the sun.
Once it creeps into the horizon.
Having an amazing night
& waking up to a beautiful morning.
Sky gazing, watching the
Clouds forming and dissipating.
I’m looking at A masterpiece,
from God’s Creations,
like it was the stroke
From the wrist. I’m feeling
Blessed to witness this image.
My eyes Constructing art,
With images from the
The mind. Working with imagination,
Creating & Living through these illusions.
Miraculously mirrored images from within.