Chillin like the
Winter breeze.
Watching the tiniest
Bit of me leave,
With the air I breathe.
Watching snowflakes fall.
Along with the steam rising
From a cup of hot co coa
Twirling it around in circles.
A breathtaking moment
Of the cold days in December.
Can you picture this
Written image?

dec 11
a journal on familial bonds.
the oddities in which the preservation of familial bonds has brought is an interesting notion worth unpacking. I keep one pillow sheet on a pillow here, and one there. as the matching florals bring comfort to both homes I go to. I use the locker in the gym of my father’s favorite number, as the unification of father and daughter presents itself in strange ways. but I somehow feel closer knowing my stuff is protected by him despite the distance. 3:33 is my favorite time to present each day as my mom and I share that in common, and I’m under the belief it keeps us closer. every store I go into, I’m on the lookout for new hello kitty themed items, as my sister recently took on the fascination for the cartoon that made an impact on a portion of my childhood too. as she grows older, our age gap seems to close, as if to be an illusion, as we begin to look more alike. I love that we carry each other with us every day.

I spend the days looking for ways to feel closer to my family, even though our distance keeps me humble.

growing up, I loved sitting in the kitchen with my dad as he would cook dinner. I learned a lot during those times. funny enough, my favorite thing I learned to cook from him was his scrambled eggs in the bowl passed down from my grandma. it’s the scrambled egg bowl. one day I’ll buy a bowl just to scramble my eggs in, but for now I’ll reminisce on that bowl knowing my eggs will never scramble as well as they do inside that bowl. he also taught me the importance of the preparation the night before. for anything, but specifically, he loves to prepare his coffee the night before for an easier wake up. I think a warm cup of coffee ready to go is a good reason to get out of bed in the morning, too.

I go through days holding onto random parts of the things that remind me of family, of the love we hold. for familial love is not one easy to replicate. and I don’t bother to replicate it, I spend my time attempting its infiltration into my daily life. to bring the love with me.

I am a mosaic of the people I love. pieces of them make up me and falter a greater sense of who I am. as I am only me because those who brought me here.

During the Big Bang, I was born,
Stardust from the cosmos, fallen to earth.
Evicted from the sky—a shooting star,
No place to call home.

When I reach for the heavens,
I’m still trying to return.

I stood at the ocean’s edge,
Longing for the ripples to embrace me.
Crabs taught me their secret—
To float away on the tide.
I prayed for my find,
But no Ursula came to grant my wish.

When I reach for the giant blue mass,
I’m still trying to return.

Through forests alive with kaleidoscope hues—
Orange, red, and yellow flush my path.
Strong thoughts flood my mind,
A deep yearning to live amongst the leaves.

In the trees, the birds perch on old branches,
Their wings whisper freedom—
A freedom I long to hold.

When I reach for the tall oak,
I’m still trying to return.

I’m still trying.
I’m still trying.
I’m still trying.

Still trying to shed this human existence,
To finally be one—
One with the world around me.

Although I didn’t participate in the recent Open Mic Night with the “Courage” theme, I was inspired to write this brief, lighthearted poem.

C in Courage is for committing
O represents Omitting whatever’s preventing you from committing
U – Understanding your role
R – Realizing the goal
A – Aligning with the purpose of what you need to be courageous about
G – Going for it with gratitude and without second-guessing and doubt
E – Energized, electrified, elevated to move…
Out of fear mode and into your courageous groove.

The mission can be smooth
When whatever is blocking your courage is removed…

Courage can be contagious
No, it’s not outrageous
I hope and pray you’ll be courageous and free
To do whatever it is you were sent here to see and be!

Dear Unsealer’s,
# What’s your love story
part 1

Originally Recorded February 2020 By: Taylor Vance
Our love Story began over a year ago at a point in my life when I thought my ability to love someone else was gone. Being a widow with two children was what I believed the rest of my life would always be not ever knowing or sharing true love again. This love came on blind, unexpected & pure. Not out of pity & without judgement which brought light back into my life. He gave me the opportunity to see and experience things I only dreamed of, but thought I would never do. Him well he was a Gypsy roaming wild and free, me well I was the pioneer never to venture too far away from home or family. He was excited to show & share his ways & worldly experiences with me mostly, more than he even knew he reminded me to LIVE & LOVE life again. I am very thankful GOD sent me a good man with only good intentions for myself and my children. I found this quote that resonates with me how I feel our relationship came to be & is the base of which we began on January 5,2019.

“Maybe she needed HIM to show her how to LIVE and Maybe he needed HER to show him how to LOVE”

ONE YEAR DOWN, FOREVER TO GO

love Taylor 2-2020
Taylor & Shane 2019

NOT THE END, INSTEAD TO BE CONTINUED…….

I avoid the light on brighter days. Should have known better than to look directly at my Grace. Now we speak of sons and who will be the last ones standing. I am not demanding but will seek out the answers. Debilitated by the bastards who’ve shown their face but never skin. Walked within the mental temple I begin but apparitions are the outlines of our sins.

I strolled with her in the sunrise
she sang to me in lullabies
I waited for her endless times
but I was never told.

We watched the clouds unfold how dare she be so bold hear my prayers, wipe my tears, watch me grow old. For years I waited on that block connecting time and youth as one. I circled like my childless mom waiting for my turn around the sun. It bled me dry from all I cry waiting for her to rise from the deadness inside as she collapses instead at the foot of the bed and we pray to what we cannot see the evidence will never be in the shade of yesterday I see what I’ve been circling and the beauty we are birthing

only to hand it over in the end.
I will not bend
I cannot go
I will not send him there.

My Grace you have outgrown me I wish you would have known me longer than our summertimes. I rise everyday like the Fourth of July hoping you will be a firefly a firework up in the sky or something that can never hide from me again. I live with your ghost I collapse as a host of your fragile soul I want to feel you near me but you fear me I fear my dear it’s now the end.

Narrator: Let me tell you a fable of three brothers, sitting and having a feast around a table:

Brother 1: Who is this God compared us three? Are we, His image, not better than He? Is not our greatness exposed for all of the world to see?

Brother 2: Yes my brother, I am inclined to agree. For I am an axe who is capable of felling any tree. Be it cedar, maple, or oak. No matter how tall or how small. All I need is a mighty hand to swing me, and I shall lower them all

Brother 3: Ah my foolish brother, you are nothing more than a brute, where as I myself am a beautiful flute. I’m the one people desire as they feast and they dine. The one they enjoy as they sip on their wine. All I need is someone to breathe through me, and I shall make a sound most divine.

Brother 1: Silly brother, who are you to try and pretend? For you know that to the heights of my glory you shall never ascend. For great as you are, of us three you are least. You shall not rise, as bread lacking yeast. Where as I am a well of knowledge, for I am a book. People have travelled far and wide just so upon me they may look. The information I contain has built kingdoms from dust, and left empires shook. I record all of that which I see, just so long I have an author to write within me.

Brother 2: Brothers now is not the time to argue about who is greatest and who is least, but let us sit together and enjoy our feast.

Brother 3: My brother you are right. This is not the time to argue, let us not fight, but rather let us lift up our glasses as I propose a toast. For we three brothers are the pinnacle for most.

Narrator: Fools! Who are you to arrogantly boast?
For You are but mere tools, who are useless unless you are used by your Master
And the works of your hands are doomed to collapse, as a wall built without mortar or plaster.
For you trust in knowledge, strength, and fame, looking to them for your power
But their power is fleeting, and they shall depart from you in your final hour
The works of your hands shall crumble to dust at times passing
But as for God, His work shall be everlasting
How can man hope to compare to the almighty God?
For He is the One who spoke forth the heavens and created the earth
He was the One who formed man from the dust, and was there when woman first gave birth.
He is the judge who shall pass forth our sentence
And the only One with the power to bring forth works of repentance.
You think that your glory shines so valiant, so bright
But in the wake of His glory, it shall appear as day, even in the darkest of night.
So raise up your glasses, and make ye your toast,
But as for me, it is in the Lord God I shall boast

to listen in order to speak,
to speak in order to be heard-
a human flaw we’ve come to
adopt
robbing us of the beauty of
what it means to be
human
to connect-
fully.

we live in a world where your response
matters more
than the proposal,
where the aftermath, the outcome,
is better than the journey-
we’ve lost the beauty in the becoming
too busy rushing to be.

we’ve adopted the butterfly
as the mascot of freedom,
her beautiful wings spreading wide,
ready to take on the world-
we neglect
what it took to get there
the caterpillar who lurks,
stuck in the before.

we celebrate our 18th birthday
then our 21st
then the 25th
and our 30th.
glossing over the others-
because, somehow
they’re unimportant.

and at 30,
you’ll wonder where your 20s went-
as if you didn’t
only celebrate them twice.

at 30, you’ll wonder where time went,
feeling like you lost your ‘prime’
as if,
during this time,
you weren’t just waiting for the next best thing:
turn 30, get married, own a home,
start a family.

now what?

you’ll wait to turn 40.
maybe gather family for celebrations
as you realize you are just a
watered down version of yourself-
the dreamer of your 20s slowly
slipped through the drains of a city
that used to inspire you-

you’ll wonder what happened to your zest,
when you stopped writing,
when you stopped looking up,
and looking down instead.

maybe-
you got too used to it
to enjoy it-
the architecture used to wow you,
now
you casually pass it by on your weekly Sunday walk to trader joe’s,
you don’t look up at it anymore,
or stop in the middle of the street
to capture the perfect photo,
one that will humble you-
and will live on,
or so you thought.

but it didn’t stop there,
you stopped smiling at strangers
you stopped losing your breath every time you saw the Manhattan skyline at night
your inspirations became too comfortable
and the appreciation swept away.

so what’s next?

you’ll turn 40 and realize half a life has gone by
since you last had a
lust for life,
half a life has gone by
since you last got your breath taken away
by the beauty of your new home.

so, you’ll spend the next 20 years
begging for your youth back
as the wrinkles multiply-
you’ll celebrate every
single
birthday
between 40 and 60,
because there is 20 birthdays inbetween
40 and 60-
not just four.

you’ll teach yourself the in-betweens
are worth celebrating too,
that turning 42 is somehow,
just as special as turning 21-

you’ll teach yourself that while
it feels like you have already lived so
many lives,
it’s still your first- and only- life.

you’ll teach your kids that you’re still growing up too-
that youthfulness and adulthood can coexist,
that 60 is the new 21
and to listen is
just as important
as to speak.

You took advantage of a vulnerable situation
Gave me your hand that led me to lies
I just wanted you to stay
Now I need you to stay away

Empty promises of passion and adventure
Sounded so great until you took it away
I wish I could hate you but I have too much empathy
Still, I hope you stay a million miles away

Stay with me
Stay away
Stop playing this little game
I wish you could take all the blame
We’re both guilty of the sky turning grey

In ten years you will be ready for something more
When you come I won’t answer the door
Permanently closed to the idea of reconciliation
I threw away the key to our ultimate fantasy
Stay where you are
Don’t come back to me

Down the Rabbit Hole

I tumble through shadows, stars in my eyes,
A velvet night sky, where silence sighs.
The walls of the tunnel, alive with my past,
Moments like whispers, they flicker and flash.

Sad times drip slowly, like tears from a stone,
Anger erupts where I stood all alone.
Laughter ignites like a flame in the dark,
Joy paints the void with a radiant spark.

I see myself giving, my heart stretched thin,
Smilin’ for others while breakin’ within.
Each frame a story, each ache, each flight,
A kaleidoscope spinning in endless night.

At the end of the tunnel, the cosmos unfolds,
Planets and universes, their mysteries untold.
A breathless horizon, a shimmering start,
A whisper that maybe, this time’s a new part.

I land in the glow, a world vast and free,
A rabbit hole journey to rediscover me.

High-quality, high times, feeling,
Optimistic about this moment. It’s
Untitled, put together like a puzzle.
Reality framed beneath the boarder
Serendipity, with the hours. With no (H) is
…………………..Ours

Grandmother Willow, Grandmother Willow, I come to you for your advice.

Can You Hear Me Through the breeze that sways within the trees? Like the leaves, I cling to you for life within your glorious crown. 

Young Seedling, I am here for you. I heard your prayers through my roots. I learned of your struggle from the birds that land upon my branches. 

Grand Mother Willow, Grand Mother Willow? 

What will become of me? I want to be tall and beautiful. Someone the World can look up to. What Will Become of Me if the Woodsman Chops Me Down. Down to the Ground, I would fall, laying waste at his feet as he stepped over me like I was nothing. Grandmother Willow What Will Become of Me?

Dear Sapling, the squirrels tell me tales of your Love towards them, feeding them before the Winter Frost and granting praise to them. Dear Sapling, the rabbits tell me the poems of their Trust in you. As you lead them to safe havens so they can create their dens for their families. Oh sweet Sapling, the deer trot with Joy through the Woods, singing an old song of your Survival and Strength that You have Honored them with. 

So, My Child Think Not of Tomorrow Because Your Presence is a Present to All those Young and Old, for the Owl of Wisdom Watches over You. She will Guide You to Become a Queen Worthy of Crowns of Adornment. And I, Your Grandmother Willow; will always shield you from the Storm of Self Doubt.

Dear Unsealed,

I wrote a little poem based on the fable of the Scorpion and the Frog. It reflects on our inherent nature and how it doesn’t necessarily dictate our fate. We all still have a choice, in the end.

SCORPION and the FROG

Let’s cross water together

I don’t want to cross alone

Like a dog without a bone

Or a bird in stormy weather

Climb upon my back

So we can take the journey

Cautiously and without hurry

Leaving ripples as our track

If you get the urge to sting

In the middle of the deep

Just put yourself to sleep

With the lullaby I sing

Sting me later if you must

I don’t mind the sacrifice

My heart will not turn to ice

Though your nature I don’t trust

Soon we’ll make it to the shore

Landing safely on dry ground

Where our nature can be found

In the way just as before

Do we part our separate ways

Or do we make the compromise

Not to live our separate lives

As our dark hairs turn to greys

And though love can turn to hate

If we don’t learn compromise

Pledge forgiveness in our eyes

So that nature’s not our fate

Alone but not lonely
Some just loan me their time, while
The sum adds up.
Im taking out loans,until,
I make enough to maintain alone.
Then I’ll invest it for my preference.
A loan, to be “alone” I’m just a loner.
Yet, far from lonely. Sometimes…
The question comes, Are you alone?
And the response in the mind is, if only.
Thinking about….
The outcomes & possibilities.