The rarest personality trait in the U.S. making up 1-3% of the population
Although very cool, it gets hard to find those who you can truly relate to or be open with
The quote says, “with great power comes great responsibility,” so off days must bloom even when I feel off
Quickly collecting myself like “where is my super suit?”
I have incredible things to do
My superpower sports a cape of compassion like a brand-new bowtie
But they can’t see me when I graze the clouds
Because their mirror gets ignored for parts, they wish to see for themselves in everyone else
Judgement then gets passed at a surface level, but my mind is only comfortable in the sky
My secret identity is me, myself, and I
But they never see passion behind the why
I’m a pretty good judge of character after about three goodbyes
I can dissect the parts of your heart that need surgery, the parts that make you cry
I can feel the shift in your breathing from across the room
I can tell your mood based on the way you’re walking or talking
I can stop the bleeding with my words of wisdom
Words that have traveled around the world and seen multiple lives
Lives that have ended early, lives that couldn’t find purpose, lives that found love and happiness, lives that weren’t treated fairly, lives that only saw hell or some lucky few only heaven knew
All these residences a hundred lifetimes could never see
My intuition breathes on the daily
It’s exhausting but I’ll never get tired of helping others
I’m an empath so my path encompasses the needs of others, I’m still learning to acknowledge my own
I’m observant on a microscopic level so it feels as if I can predict the future when I just notice the behavior patterns most glance over
The keys are in the details, but no one reads between the lines, people only want the cliff notes
Well, pull out your pen, I’m going to bring success to you
1. Love others more than yourself and true love will be attracted to you, you won’t have to keep searching for it only to find pain
2. Gratitude is the only peace that last longer than self-care or a vacation, stop stressing over the things you can’t control
3. Fear and Comparison are cousins that shouldn’t be in your family tree, they are poisoning your roots; so, have a conversation with the two and watch how relatable the confidence you thought you never knew begins to bloom
p.s. my superpower is learning to be a better version of me…

When one turns their back on the suffering of the world,
they are no longer sorry
Sunrays break in the crevices of the dark hole in which grief has buried them

Darkness is an old friend of theirs and they find comfort in not having to use their eyes
Just like the swollen blisters of the heart which keeps one in comfortable sorrow

The erasure of shame and the dirty work of healing is a prayer
They pray for discomfort
They pray to feel a cold sweat trembling down their spine
And to have feelings again

The cave keeps one safe
When one tells themself that they belong in this cave,
they cannot be perceived by the world’s creatures

They cannot be scratched or bitten
At least if they are the one to hurt themselves, control still lies within hand
And when one labels themselves as a victim, it allows them to pursue life unseen and perfectly irresponsible

But there is a light at the end of the tunnel
And they realize that they were never a victim of the world’s suffering
They crawl
They beg
They pray for discomfort
To see the world hanging upside down as the bats fidget and swoop
out of the darkness into the light

This cave no longer serves them
Their sorrows will kill them
Their soul longs for a greater meaning than the dark,
damp walls that this crumbling home has provided

Creeping on their hands and knees, they bring the light closer
The moistened air becomes cold and the light becomes blinding
Their tears are sparks of what overstimulating joy could be

Coming out of their cave dragging their feet behind them
They see the world for the first time and the great expanse before them
The illusion that the cave was the only part of this universe flees away in dismay

How could they have stayed in the darkness for so long?
The world is too big for their eyes and their heart
It’s cold and dangerous with people who speak a different tongue
But passion burns through each and every single one of their souls
The cave dweller makes a decision
This discomfort will save them
Transitions the coldness of their heart to the goosebumps of their skin
With the blinding sun rays that caress their cold little body,
they are alive and perfectly stunned

When the trees lose their leaves,
their vail falls away.
They stand before us, naked,
and the skies all turn gray.

Trees don’t go out looking,
for something to fill the space.
They wait through the winter,
wrapped in its cold embrace.

They don’t waste time worrying,
wishing that they were warm.
They know it’s just a season,
and soon new growth will form.

I’m sure they miss the foliage,
they had the year before.
But when God takes something away,
He always gives back more!

So when you face a loss,
that brings you to your knees,
know that it’s just a season.
Like when the trees lose their leaves.

Time for a new prospect
Have my eyes on a couple.
Might Burts a few bubbles, just
To see if it is worth the trouble,
Taking a chance.
Making some plans,
With some Subtle demands
But….
Only time will tell if it’s prosperous.

What’s your rhythm?
Today, I awoke thinking about mine
My rhythm, designed by The Divine

That said:

It’s a rhythm of love
Created by The One Above

It’s a rhythm of joy
Authentic, not a ploy

It’s a rhythm of peace
May it never cease

It’s a rhythm of patience
Open to innovation

It’s a rhythm of kindness
Graced by divineness

It’s a rhythm of goodness
Painted on a canvas

It’s a rhythm of faithfulness
And large doses of gratefulness

It’s a rhythm of gentleness
Created not to dismantle this

It’s a rhythm of self-control
Gentle but bold

It’s a rhythm of the Fruit of The Spirit
With me? Let’s hear it…

It’s a rhythm that’s introspective and fun
Moving to the soulful beat of the drum

It’s a rhythm of flow
What’s your tempo?

The Fog

The sky was wet
No drops
You could still smell the fall of it all on the blades of green
I can still hear its naked skin running across the forest
The crackling of the branches sounded like his jaw clicking
I’d open my mouth, trying to mimic his steps
The fear convinced me of what was getting closer
The vicious fog man
Grandiosity in his carnivorous form
Go home.