Activity
-
Oswald Perez shared a letter in the
Poetry group 1 months, 4 weeks agoHappy Easter!
Oswald PerezDear 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 arrivedA day to celebrate
The rising of the son of GodWith euphoric joy in the holiest spirit
We praise all that life bringsWith 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! -
michae1 shared a letter in the
Poetry group 1 months, 4 weeks agoHappy 4-20
Michael L George jrMary 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.-
Michael, this is a very clever piece.It is so interesting all the benefits they are realizing now that comes from CBD! Thank you or sharing your creativity with us!
Lauren-
Thank you, and yes it is amazing to learn the medical benefits from it.
The Gonzaga university has this new class available for students or even to the public. It’s a class that allows you to smoke cannabis and study the medical benefits from it.cash only no government assistance. Me personally I think it’s amazing to allows this to happen.
-
-
-
Benjamin Fuller shared a letter in the
Poetry group 1 months, 4 weeks agoDivine Wind of Inspiration
Benjamin M. FullerThis 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 -
taysleatherlace shared a letter in the
Poetry group 2 months agoTIMES
Taylor VanceDear 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 -
Heather shared a letter in the
Poetry group 2 months agoExhaustion
HeatherI’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!-
Are you familiar with Marianne Williamson s “out deepest fear”? Or Ernest Henley’s “Invictus” ?
I find them comforting when I too, experience feeling burned out from how agreeable of a person I can be at the cost of my own needs. Hope it resonates with you. 💚 -
Aww Heather, my hope for you is that you focus on only leaning into people and places that make you feel alive instead of exhausted. Sending lots and lots of hugs. <3 Lauren
-
-
Heather shared a letter in the
Poetry group 2 months, 1 weeks agoGrowth Looks Good
HeatherDo 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!
-
Jillian Padgett shared a letter in the
Poetry group 2 months, 2 weeks agoRejecting Love
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 -
Pretty Dee shared a letter in the
Poetry group 2 months, 2 weeks agoEye You
Pretty Dee ✨🫶🏾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.-
Aww this is beautiful. Did you know Bashert is a Jewish word? I have heard my grandparents say it! Whether you found your person or not, I feel like there is a pull on our hearts – a knowing that our heart is connecting to another person’s heart. Thank you for sharing and thank you for being part of The Unsealed. I have so missed you and your…read more
-
Yes! It’s a wild, bizarre story about how it came to me because my brain surprises me everyday lol. I haven’t found my person, but I drew inspiration from knowing that it exists and will come.
-
-
Also, I am going to feature this piece in today’s newsletter :).
-
This is beautiful! I’m so happy you have found someone you have such a strong, passionate connection with. ♥
-
Thank you I appreciate it. I am actually single but I still remain hopeful for love
-
-
-
Ruth Liew shared a letter in the
Poetry group 2 months, 2 weeks agoBeing Alive
Ruth LiewAre our bodies the amazing external shelter
Of the fascinating machinery
That makes the true existence of the psyche possible?
Without this body, this “me”
You cannot know or share any of my thoughts
And that would be the tragedy at hand, soon enough;
So thus,
As long as my mind is held in this body
I will love it and feed it
And take it on walks
And give it warm baths
And tuck it to bed cozy
And I hope you can do the same
In your own safe housing of your soul
So I can hear your sacred thoughts as well,
That only you can speak. -
Heather shared a letter in the
Poetry group 2 months, 2 weeks agoLater Love From Me
HeatherHere I thought you were “the one” with what was programmed from within.
Walking life without you seemed so numb at the time.
Breathing different air than you set for sleepless nights.
I’m so glad you were not “the one.”
My programs from within have switched from fantasy to reality.
Walking life without you has defrosted in the most warmest ways.
Breathing different air from you
has given me better nights of sleep.
The weighted blanket type of sleep.
Here I thought you and I would be the forever type.
Boy, was that such hype.
I’m so glad forever was not for this flight.
Here I thought I’d be together with you, the “love of my life.”
Not knowing that love would be with me years after the blue. -
Heather shared a letter in the
Poetry group 2 months, 3 weeks agoPossibilities
HeatherMaybe one day we meet back up.
May it be in a store buying that day’s outfit for a night out.
May it be at a local park catching Mama Nature’s beautiful sunrays.
May it be at a red light on our way to what consist of our busy lives.
Maybe. Just maybe, one day we will meet up and when we do, it’s as if nothing was new.
It was just as we left it. -
Titus Armon shared a letter in the
Poetry group 2 months, 3 weeks agoHey Girl
Titus ArmonHey Girl
What’s Your Name
I See You Looking
What’s On Your Mind
I Like The Way You Think
Show Me More About You
Paint Me A Picture
I’m Here
Wondering
Waiting
ListeningSeemingly Beautiful
But I Don’t Know
Tell Me Your Favorite Song
Do You Go Out
Or Stay In And Read
I’m A Writer
In Need Of A Friend
You’re Patient
And I am
You’ve Noticed Me For Days
I’ve Noticed Too
I Wanna Shake Your Hand
It Looks Soft
How Do I Say
We Could Get Lifted
No Intentions
Just What’s MissingWhat Do You Say
-
Martha Moore shared a letter in the
Poetry group 2 months, 3 weeks agoMarco?
Martha MooreWhere has my light gone
That used to twinkle in my eyes?
I feel like I don’t belong
In this body I call mine
I don’t know who I am anymore
Not even a single clue
Maybe I don’t know who I was before
It’s hard to know what’s true
Have I lost myself somehow?
Gone without a trace
Or was I never found
A vessel without a face-
I totally feel this at times, especially when life feels like it’s changing faster than I can control it. Take a deep breath, focus on the present, and love yourself. Sending hugs. Thank you for sharing. <3 Lauren
-
Thank you for the kind words and for taking the time to read it.
-
-
-
The Nameless Verse shared a letter in the
Poetry group 2 months, 4 weeks agoAnxiety
Kristopher HaeberlinI wake up with pressure where peace should be.
Tight chest, cold hands—
like my body’s got bad news it won’t share with me.
I open my eyes, but the war’s already started.
No trigger, no trauma—just wired and guarded.People say “you’re good, just breathe,”
like lungs are the problem.
Like air ever fixed the kind of drowning I do in silence.
I’m not sad.
I’m not mad.
I’m just… off.
And nobody sees it when the switch flips soft.I laugh on cue.
I answer, “I’m fine.”
But inside, I’m pacing the edge of a line
I can’t name.
I can’t cross.
I can’t leave behind.You ever feel scared for no reason at all?
Like your bones remember something you don’t recall?
Like you’re the only one in a room full of light
who’s being followed by shadows no one else fights?It’s not drama.
It’s not weak.
It’s a weight you carry in your teeth—
locked jaw, clenched fists, fake calm.
A panic that wears your face and moves on.Some nights I just stare at the ceiling,
trying to outrun a thought I’m not even feeling.
I pray for stillness but get static instead—
a quiet so loud it screams in my head.This ain’t for pity. This ain’t for show.
This is survival. This is let go or blow.
This is for every heartbeat I had to fake.
Every smile I stitched for everyone’s sake.So if I ever seem distant, short, or strange—
I’m not cold.
I’m in chains.
Fighting to breathe in a body that blames
me
for the storm I didn’t choose,
for a mind that tightens every fuse.Anxiety don’t knock. It just breaks in.
Puts its feet up and asks how I’ve been.
So I tell it—
“You again?”
It smiles.
“Yeah. You know I live in your skin.” -
The Nameless Verse shared a letter in the
Poetry group 2 months, 4 weeks agoFalkland’s Law
Kristopher HaeberlinWe are taught to choose,
as if indecision is death—
as if silence is weakness,
and hesitation, sin.
But truth isn’t always loud.
And power
isn’t always movement.There are moments
when the greatest strength
is doing nothing.
Not out of fear,
but out of wisdom.
Because not every door needs opening.
Not every question needs an answer.
Not every fire deserves your water.Sometimes, the chaos wants your reaction.
It feeds on your urgency.
It tricks you into thinking
that action alone
equals progress.
But no—
discernment is the throne.
Restraint is the crown.The strongest ones don’t always strike.
They observe.
They wait.
They listen to the wind
before choosing where to plant their flag.
They watch the pieces move
before touching the board.There is courage in stillness.
There is defiance in the pause.
Because when you don’t have to decide,
you reclaim the power of timing.
You allow truth to mature,
emotion to settle,
and consequences to reveal themselves.Some storms burn out
without a single match lifted.
Some lies unspool
without confrontation.
And some choices solve themselves
when you give them the mercy of silence.You are not passive.
You are precise.
You are the calm in a world of reaction.
You are the breath
before the leap.
And the space
between rage and regret.So if the moment does not demand a decision,
then don’t offer one.
Let life unfold
without your forced grip.
Let wisdom be the silence
between questions
you never needed to ask. -
The Nameless Verse shared a letter in the
Poetry group 2 months, 4 weeks agoWilson's Law
Kristopher HaeberlinThey counted coins.
You counted questions.
They chased profit like prey—
you chased truth like prophecy.
And though the world didn’t notice at first,
you knew:
fortune follows those who feed the mind
before the hand.While others raced the clock
trying to beat the system,
you were building one.
One forged in quiet corners,
long nights,
books full of dust and diamonds.
You didn’t hunger for the gold.
You hungered for the why.And with each answer,
you laid bricks beneath your future
while they played hopscotch on sand.
Because money is a moment.
But knowledge—
knowledge is momentum.
A force that compounds
in silence
until the noise can’t ignore it.You didn’t flaunt degrees.
You wore humility
like armor.
You didn’t scream credentials.
You let your results do the whispering.
And soon enough,
the same world that dismissed your hunger
became ravenous for your insights.Money came.
Quietly, respectfully.
Like a servant to its master.
Because when the mind is rich,
the rest must follow.
The paycheck finds the problem-solver.
The opportunities find the thinker.
The throne finds the visionary
who spent years building it
in solitude.So study more.
Ask better questions.
Break what you know
and build it wiser.
Because intellect is the only currency
that survives every crash.They may buy the room,
but you built the foundation.
And in the end,
those who seek wisdom
are the ones who rule. -
The Nameless Verse shared a letter in the
Poetry group 2 months, 4 weeks agoGilbert’s Law
Kristopher HaeberlinNo one is coming to tell you how.
No divine instruction manual.
No whispered secret from the wind.
You are the blueprint.
The task is the test.
And excellence—
that quiet, burning force within—
is not suggested. It’s required.You weren’t given this burden to fumble it.
You weren’t chosen to coast.
You were meant to craft.
To carve the best possible path
from raw stone and stubborn will.Others may shrug,
do the bare minimum,
pray for luck or blame the sky.
But you—
you shoulder the weight with intention.
Because if it must be done,
let it be done with honor.
Let it be a testament.There are a thousand ways
to do something halfway.
But only one to make it yours—
to wear the result like a crest
on your chest,
knowing no one else
could’ve walked that road
with the same fire in their stride.Responsibility isn’t a chain.
It’s a sword.
And those who fear it,
never rise.
But those who wield it—
they shape legacies.You don’t just take the task.
You take ownership of its destiny.
You ask, “How can I make this better?”
Even when it’s good.
Especially when it’s good.
Because mastery doesn’t settle.
It refines. It reimagines. It reinvents.And every moment you treat effort
as sacred,
you are building something eternal.
Not just a finished job,
but a symbol of your integrity.
A reminder that greatness
isn’t about the glory—
it’s about the grit.So take the task.
Not lightly.
But boldly.
Find the best way forward,
even if no one else does.
Especially then.Because to complete the mission
is survival.
But to elevate it—
to perfect it—
that is legacy. -
The Nameless Verse shared a letter in the
Poetry group 2 months, 4 weeks agoKindlin's Law
Kristopher HaeberlinChaos has a language. It speaks in scattered thoughts,
racing heartbeats, and dreams that unravel by morning.
You feel it before you name it—
a weight behind the eyes,
a knot where clarity should be.
But the moment you pick up the pen,
something ancient stirs.
A primal magic in ink,
the kind that bridges storm to stillness.You write the mess.
You spell out the wound.
You stop pretending the fire is manageable
and you draw the flames with honest hands.
Suddenly, you see it.
It has a name. A shape. A boundary.
What once was an unknowable shadow
becomes a charted storm—
still fierce, but no longer infinite.You were not falling apart.
You were simply too full.
And the act of writing—
it is how you make space again.
Each sentence is a blade.
Every period, a pause to breathe.
You dissect the chaos
not to kill it,
but to understand it.A problem on paper is no longer the beast in your brain.
It is half-tamed—
a creature seen and labeled.
And that is no small victory.
That is how healing begins.When you make the intangible visible,
you strip it of its tyranny.
And what was once unspeakable
becomes a line in your story—
one you now control.Do not underestimate the miracle
of seeing yourself on the page.
You are not broken,
just burdened.
And in the light of your own truth,
the darkness begins to lose its grip.So write.
Not because it solves everything,
but because it solves something.
Enough to move. Enough to breathe.
Enough to remember:
You are not what you carry.
You are the one who names it,
faces it,
and lets it go. -
The Nameless Verse shared a letter in the
Poetry group 2 months, 4 weeks agoMurphy's Law
Kristopher HaeberlinThe fear begins as a whisper—soft, almost kind.
A flicker in the shadows of thought,
a ghost of what could go wrong.
But you look. You listen. You feed it.
And fear, once invited, grows fangs.
You cradle catastrophe in your mind
until it sleeps beside your dreams
and wakes before your coffee.The more you dread,
the more it becomes a self-fulfilling spell,
cast by trembling hands
and minds too haunted to see
that the thing we run from
is often drawn closer
by the thundering echo of our retreat.You feared they’d leave—
so your anxious questions pushed them to the door.
You feared the fall—
and in bracing, you slipped.
You feared silence—
and your panic spoke loud enough to echo.The universe listens not with judgment,
but with obedience.
And it moves
in the direction of your gaze.Fear is a script you recite so often
that life begins to follow its stage directions.
It becomes the blueprint of breakdowns.
And once you expect disaster,
you live rehearsing it—
repeating lines that summon storms,
as if rain was your destiny.But it’s not.
You are not cursed.
You are not doomed.
You are simply powerful—
and that power bends to belief.
So shift it.
Breathe life into faith, not fear.
Envision calm, not collapse.
See love arriving, not leaving.
See doors opening instead of locking.Because when you choose to feed hope
with the same hunger you once gave anxiety,
the world responds.
The winds turn.
And suddenly, the monsters
become mist.
The worst-case no longer rules your mind.
And the life you feared
stops knocking
because you finally stopped answering.Fear only wins
when you crown it king. -
The Nameless Verse shared a letter in the
Poetry group 2 months, 4 weeks agoThe Weight of Light
Kristopher HaeberlinThey told me I was born of stardust—
a soft echo spun from cosmic ash,
but no one warned me that even stardust
can be stepped on, swept up,
or forgotten beneath someone’s shoes.I’ve been trying to shine in places
that worship shadows.
Kissed wounds into people who only
brought me their swords.
Let my chest be an altar for the broken,
but no one stayed long enough to pray.
Still, I gave—
my time, my truth, my trembling hands—
as if love were currency
and I could pay off loneliness
with interest.But I am not debt.
I am not what they abandoned.
I am the sunrise stubborn enough
to come back every morning,
even when the world sleeps through my arrival.
I am the quiet resilience of oceans
pulling tides into rhythm
with a moon that never speaks.I’ve learned the universe doesn’t apologize
for burning stars into oblivion—
it just makes room for new constellations.
And maybe I’m not meant to be
understood by everyone.
Maybe I’m here
to remind the forgotten
that they were never invisible.So if you are reading this—
gripping your soul in clenched fists,
carrying the kind of grief
that leaks when no one’s watching—
know this:You are not the wound.
You are the healing.
You are not lost.
You are the map someone else needs.
You are not too much.
You are the weight of light—
and that’s why they couldn’t hold you. - Load More
