Activity
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The Nameless Verse shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months ago
Wilson's Law
They 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.Subscribe  or  log in to reply
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The Nameless Verse shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months ago
Gilbert’s Law
No 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.Subscribe  or  log in to reply
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The Nameless Verse shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months ago
Kindlin's Law
Chaos 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.Subscribe  or  log in to reply
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The Nameless Verse shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months ago
Murphy's Law
The 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.Subscribe  or  log in to reply
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The Nameless Verse shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months ago
The Weight of Light
They 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.Subscribe  or  log in to reply
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Oswald Perez shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months ago
A Welcome To Spring
Dear Unsealers:
At the time of writing, there’s less than ten minutes before the vernal equinox. Winter comes to a close.
The first grass grows, the days get longer.
It’s the time of year where come back inside from lunch will be difficult.
I feel a sense of possibility in the air.
With that, a welcome to the new season:
When the first grass grows
It’s the surest sign of time
Rising up from the groundThe seasons are changing
With winter’s icy grip retreating
Spring has finally arrivedA time where everything’s in bloom
Trees, grass and flowers tooUnder equal hours of day and night
The world comes alive againThe new season will unfold in ninety two days
Possibility is in the airAs the next part of the year begins
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Aww Oswald, I love how your poems set the tone for the time of year. It really allows me and reminds me to take a moment to be present. Your poems always put me in the moment, which is so important in life. Thank you for sharing and thank you for being part of The Unsealed. I am going to feature your piece in our newsletter today. <3 Lauren
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Martha Moore shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months ago
Judgment Day
The crowd gathered round as you rode in on your high horse. We watched as you took your seat on the highest pedestal. As you looked down on those of us on the ground, you decided we were simple fools and peasants. Nothing of your stature. You straightened up and sat tall announcing that the time had come for you to pass judgement. We bowed our heads shamefully, for you told us we aren’t worth a name. Because we are all human garbage, we can be classed as a stereotype. You won’t allow our eyes to meet your gaze, we are too unworthy to be socially accepted by you. “Wasted space,” is what you say, “the world has no place for your kind.” You tell us we are simple minded, useless, and no good. We should never be allowed to associate with your graces. We have not earned the right to stand where you have stood. You mock us and laugh in our faces. We are merely entertainment for someone like you. You have ruled that we are not fit to be among the class of high society and pound your gavel to finalize the sentencing. We watch as you sit back, pleased with yourself and all your wondrous accomplishments. But as we stand together here on the ground, we dance and laugh and live freely. We are proud not to have to sit on a throne or bare the crown of perfection. We embrace our simple lives full of love and joy. For we know: we may have a long, treacherous journey to the top but we have no other way to look but up. As for you, sat way up high, there is nowhere left to go. Only down. Even the greatest kings and queens could never defeat gravity.
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Kendra Bendewald shared a letter in the
Introductions, Icebreakers and Prompts group 3 months ago
Pleasure to Meet You
Unsealers,
I seem to have a difficult time finding the right words to begin an introduction about who I am because I am still trying to figure that out for myself. I do know that I have a story to tell, and I feel incredibly grateful to have stumbled upon this community where I finally have an opportunity to start doing that for the first time in my life.
Starting at a young age, I had a craving for the fast life. I entered into the throws of addiction shortly after my age became double digits, I was gifted with a laundry list of mental health diagnosis at age 25 including but not limited to type 1 bipolar, C-PTSD, anxiety, and depression; and in turn I have landed myself in some fairly… less than ideal circumstances due to those facts. All in all my intentions are mostly pure, but I have a tendency to take red flags and mistake them for a carnival, and I seem to try every wrong thing first before I finally get life figured out. Some of the shit I have gotten myself into has changed me forever, some of it makes for a hilarious story, and some of it can still bring me to tears just by thinking about it. All of it has brought me to where I am today. I have experienced child birth, divorce (not once but twice), multiple types of abuse (both on the giving and receiving end), homelessness, prostitution, incarceration, and the list goes on. It will be interesting to see going forward how this all eventually gets out on paper, but I appreciate every one of you that are about to guide me through making that happen. I would love to get to know you all, and I am looking forward to reading what each of you has to say.XOXO, kendy
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Aww Kendy, It sounds like you have been through so much and at the end of the day it’s all led you to look back inside yourself and connect with your heart. You are so strong, and I loved the line about seeing red flags as carnivals. I have totally been there. Welcome to our family. Thank you for sharing. I am going to feature this peace in our…read more
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Thank you for the kind words, and that’s awesome!
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Kendy,
Life isn’t always kind, I am sorry you have had so much to deal with. And here you are. I hope to read some of your story. This is a kind and supportive space, It’s good to write, read listen and feel the support of this group. Welcome!Write me back Subscribe  or  log in to reply
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Oswald Perez shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months ago
Beannachtaí na Féile Pádraig oraibh!
Dear Unsealers:
It’s the seventeenth day of March.
So the adage goes, we’re all a little bit Irish today. With that in mind, I hope that everyone has a wonderful St. Patrick’s Day with all the luck.
As I’ve done since 2021, I’ve written my own Irish blessing, and it goes like this…
On this, the 17th day of March
A blessing from me to youMay the sun shine upon you
Blue skies above, green grass belowRainbows to appear when you’re near
A life lived joyfully, without many tearsFor your troubles to be less
The craic always kept in good cheerAll the shamrocks bringing luck
With the warmth of Eire’s heart, soulThere’s one more thing to say
To everyone on the Emerald Isle…Happy St. Patrick’s Day!
Beannachtaí na Féile Pádraig oraibhSubscribe  or  log in to reply
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Oswald, I’ve always loved the fun and celebratory spirit of St. Patrick’s Day. After all, who doesn’t want to feel a little luckier than usual? I love how your poem captures the positive and uplifting nature of the holiday and also pays homage to the Irish. Thank you for sharing!
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Heather shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months ago
Mood: Nostalgic
Can we go back to playing barbies on the bedroom floor?
Playing baby dolls on rainy days?
Or to those Saturday mornings of cartoons & a big bowl of Fruit Loops cereal?
Can we go back to those summer days of frozen Capri Suns, popsicles, & all day swim sessions?
Or to those skid knees from falling off bikes.
Falling down from rollerblading.
Can we go back to late night sleepovers at grandma’s house?
Or those next morning wake up calls of fresh pancakes consuming grandma’s house.
Can we go back to playing videos games all night?
Playing the game tag all day outside?
Can we go back to a time when it wasn’t rushing us to grow old?
When time was less of our worries.
Or to those summer days of riding bikes in dust storms feeling powerful?
Can we go back to a time when feeling free was all we knew?Subscribe  or  log in to reply
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Heather, this takes me back to my childhood. My younger sister and I spent long summer days outside feeling as if they would never end. When we are children, we usually don’t realize the beauty of a life without adult responsibility. I’d love to go back too! Thank you for sharing your thoughts.
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Heather, I so feel all of this, and these thoughts enter my head every now and then. Childhood was so magical and I never knew life would be so different when I grew up. Maybe it doesn’t have to be? Thank you for sharing. I am going to feature this piece in our newsletter today. <3 Lauren
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Thank you for this! & thank you for sharing in the newsletter. Means so much to not just me but to my internal human who finds such zen in writing. She FINALLY feels heard. Her words are FINALLY being seen in a community that she’s searched for so long. Thank you!!
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Martha Moore shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months, 1 weeks ago
On My Mind... Again
I sit down to write
You’re on my mind again
But this is nothing new
By now I’m used to itSometimes it’s all consuming
Other times, fleeting thoughts
Either way it hits me
I’m left feeling lostI ache to my core for you
Miss every moment we never shared
I need you to know I love you
And that I’ll always careI’ll never forget you
My soul knows something is missing
My brain tries to rationalize it
But my heart is never listeningSubscribe  or  log in to reply
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Martha, missing someone who is no longer a part of our life leaves us feeling bereft and unmoored. No matter how irrational we know our feelings may be, it doesn’t stop them from consuming us. Whether we choose to listen to our hearts or our minds, these feelings do not often dissipate as quickly as we’d like. Thank you for sharing this moving poem!
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Thank you for taking the time to read it. I appreciate it so much.
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Martha, This is so beautiful and so relatable. I totally know what it’s like to miss someone you love and feel it in the vibration of your heart. I am going to feature this poem in our newsletter today. Thank you for sharing and thank you for being part of The Unsealed. Sending hugs. <3 Lauren
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Thank you for the support and encouragement. It is truly and deeply appreciated.
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Heather shared a letter in the
Remembering those we lost/Grief group 3 months, 1 weeks ago
Personal Bodyguards
When I see a tiny lizard or a gecko on the sidewalk, I see you & smell the softness of pancakes cooking in the kitchen.
When I see a black cat, I see you & instantly smell gingerbread cookies baking in the oven around Christmas time.
When I see a white Chevy truck, I see two young girls sitting in the bed of the truck embracing the moment of the wind blowing amongst their tiny faces after a fun filled day in the snow
When I see elder men wearing their “Veterans” hat, I see you standing before me. I feel the softness in the air. I see the gentleness of your soul standing amongst the crowd. I thank that individual for their service as I walk away.
When I see the color purple out in the world, I see you. When I’m at work & hear similar words from my clients, I think of you standing before me. When I see the card game “Go Fish” being played, I see two younger girls sitting at their grandmother’s table laughing til their tummy hurts.
When I see a yellow tractor, I see a young adult enjoying the time being spent with their grandfather. When I see a blue truck, I see you & start singing those old country songs we’d sing together.
No matter where I go in life, I see you.
I see all of you!
Wherever I go, you are right there guiding the way. The way to clarity. To beautiful blessings. To happiness. To calmness. To love.No matter the length of missing you, the memories, all of the memories will forever be shared.
Wherever I go in life, I know I have several bodyguards guiding me along my path. Protecting me.Subscribe  or  log in to reply
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Heather, this piece makes my heart smile. We all have little ways of remembering those we lost in our day-to-day lives, and it brings us so much comfort. Whenever I see a butterfly hover near me, I feel like my aunt is giving me a hug. When I see a red bird, I feel comforted by my granny’s presence even though she’s been gone for years. Our…read more
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Liz shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months, 1 weeks ago
This post is viewable by the Unsealed community only.
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Heather shared a letter in the
To my younger self group 3 months, 1 weeks ago
Church Parking Lot
I met my younger self on a Sunday morning in a church parking lot.
She looked as if she just saw God.
Hair golden blonde.
Eyes piercing blue.
Sun beaming on her young face.
She ran up to my car and jumped in the passenger seat.
Touching every button.
Opening every compartment.
Smiling.
Dimples radiating so big.
She looks over at me and with a smile as big as a car tire, she tells me, “We did it!”
She gives me such a huge hug, one that felt as if it was building up for years.
Smiles at me with such accomplishment.
Opens the car door and gradually skips away to the beat of her own drum.
As I watch that little girl skip away, I acknowledge her happiness.
Her joy. Her fulfillment.
I acknowledge the fear that once guarded her.
As I watch that little girl skip away, I remind myself that every achievement is not just for me, but for her as well.
She deserves the world.
She deserves achievements.
She deserves this moment right now.
Right here in the church parking lot.Subscribe  or  log in to reply
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Heather, being able to look back and “see” yourself as a child gives you a glimpse of the innocence and uninhibited happiness that you possessed before life taught you to fear. While we all become disillusioned as we see the reality of the world, it is important to remember and appreciate the beauty in the journey. I am glad that you continue to…read more
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Oswald Perez shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months, 1 weeks ago
International Women's Day 2025
Dear Unsealers,
It’s the eighth day of March.
A Happy International Women’s Day to all the women of the world. From my mom, my sister, all of my female friends and relatives. And to all the women in The Unsealed.
In honor of your strength, kindness and tenacity, comes this poem…
On International Women’s Day 2025
A salute to all the women
Family, relatives, friends and acquaintances
In every corner of the worldMay they keep making this world a better place
Bringing their light, tenacity and strength
Into these trying days and nightsMay we learn from their compassion
Their willingness to stick up for what’s rightI wouldn’t be the person I am
Kind, compassionate and fierce
If not for my mom and sister
The two most important women in my lifeHere’s to the women of the world
Celebrated on this 8th day of MarchAnd every single day of the year!
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Oswald, this poem is such a sweet tribute to the women you’ve encountered. It is obvious, based on your kindness and compassion, that some top tier ladies have influenced you! As a woman, your words mean a lot to me even though I do not know you personally. Thank you for supporting and uplifting the women in your life and for sharing your lovely poetry!
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michae1 shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months, 2 weeks ago
2 Fingers Up
Self reflecting with two
fingers up. Projecting peace,
A double entendre.
Happy, with a joyful smile
Showing my teeth.
With the acception of
A Farwell to the past versions of me.Subscribe  or  log in to reply
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Michael, this poem makes me think that you are feeling confident and excited about life. I love that you are “projecting peace” with your two fingers up and smiling with your teeth. I hope that you are able to continue living your truth! Thank you for sharing.
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Noirerequiem shared a letter in the
Introductions, Icebreakers and Prompts group 3 months, 2 weeks ago
It'sAStory
May this find you all in good health and wellness.
Let me introduce myself:I am AmbitiousBMarie. (Branching off to a new name soon ***NoireRequiem***
Been writing since I was 13.
I’m a former foster youth and I strongly believe writing played a major role in my therapy during that time.
I’m currently located in York,PA
I was born and raised in NYC, Tha Bronx.
I want to bring people on the journey of my life.We are the ones who hold the history of this World.
We are the true storytelling animals that write through it all.
And I am here to give my part of the story.So glad to find community online and I hope we all can find solace in each other’s writing journey.
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Marie, I have been reading a lot of your work and I am always impressed with your eloquence and the way you make your words so relatable. I’m sure that your childhood in foster care was challenging in a way that those who haven’t experienced it cannot understand, but I think it has given you a strength that is palpable in your work. I can’t wait…read more
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I appreciate you so much.
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Oswald Perez shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months, 2 weeks ago
March On!
Dear Unsealers,
It’s the first day of March.January took a century to go by. February passed through quickly.
March is a month of transition.As the clocks will turn ahead an hour in a week. More daylight on the commute home from work.
The countdown to Easter begins. The Lenten season begins on Ash Wednesday.A month that honors women, and brings cerebral palsy to the forefront. And a moment marking five years since the world as we knew it was upended.
March is a month when the seasons begin to change. It begins in the last days of winter and comes to a close at the start of spring.
All in thirty-one days.
As with every month, a welcome in verse:
March
Month number three, in 2025The month comes in like a lion
As winter’s chill and hints of spring trade daysThirty-one days lie ahead.
A season of transitionFrom clocks moving ahead
Equal hours of night and dayA month of solemnity
The countdown to Easter begins.It’s also Cerebral Palsy Awareness Month.
And five years since the AwakeningThe month goes out like a lamb
As the first blooms arriveSubscribe  or  log in to reply
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Oswald, I love how you always usher in a new month with hopeful anticipation! March feels like a month of transition to me as well. As winter fades away and spring begins to show its colors, we feel a sense of possibility….unless we are talking about five years ago when March stood for something completely different. Thank you for sharing this piece!
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Anita Williams shared a letter in the
To my younger self group 3 months, 3 weeks ago
A Letter to My Younger Self: A Journey Through Love, Hurt, and Spiritual Awakening
Dear Young Anita,
I just want to tell you that this life you are about to walk into—it won’t be easy. It will be shaped by your search for love, by your desire to be seen, understood, and cherished. From the very beginning, you will long for a love that feels safe, a love that feels like home. And because of that longing, you will make mistakes.
When you step out of high school, the first boy who tells you that you’re beautiful will catch your heart. Not because he is meant for you, but because you’ve never had that kind of attention. Your father loves you, yes, but you never truly understood what love meant outside of him. You didn’t know that real love doesn’t make you question. It doesn’t make you chase. It doesn’t make you prove your worth.
You will go through life choosing wrong, thinking that love comes with sacrifice, with giving too much, with buying things, overextending yourself—just to feel wanted. You will bend, you will break, you will carry the weight of others who never deserved to hold you.
But God sees you.
God will hear your prayers, even when you don’t know what you’re asking for. And when He answers, it won’t come in the way you expect.
Your first child will be a boy. You always wanted a girl, but God said no. He needed you to experience unconditional love, not the kind of love that left you wondering. He needed you to feel a love that is pure, unshaken, and constant. A son’s love for his mother.
And when you still don’t get it, He will give you another boy. Because you still haven’t learned what love truly is. You were still searching for it in people, in places, in relationships that were never meant to last. But these two boys? They will teach you what love looks like—what it means to be cherished without conditions, without proving yourself.
Even through the heartache, the rejection, the loneliness, you will always have them. They will remind you of your strength when you feel weak, of your worth when the world tries to dim your light.
But Anita, here’s the truth that will set you free: The love you’ve been searching for has always been within you.
You are love.
You are enough.
You are worthy.No man, no relationship, no outside validation will ever define you. You define yourself. And when you finally align with the right energy—the right love, the right peace, the right abundance—it will all come to you effortlessly. Because it was always meant for you.
You got this, Anita. Even in your darkest moments, you got this.
With the deepest love,
Future YouSubscribe  or  log in to reply
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Anita, this is such a beautiful and inspiring letter to yourself. I feel like so many of us go through life without fully understanding that in order to feel love from someone else, we first must love ourselves. The love you share with your sons is so special and will never waver. I hope that you continue to define yourself and cultivate your own…read more
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michae1 shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months, 3 weeks ago
Emotional Creatures
Some of us worry about
“Certain features”,
We go through “desperate measures”.
To provide some type of pleasure.
We’re Constantly under pressure,
Fighting with gravity.
We are searching and looking
Browsing at eye candy,
Looks are appealing, but
To get a taste.
You might Unwrap other
Feelings!
Revealing the mind is
So divine,
Sometimes it’s quiet and unspoken,
Then sometimes it’s loud!
When it’s provoken,
Soo, maybe….it’s better to
Leave it unopened.
The power of emotions, blows up!
Some atomic fluids flowing. Now,
We’re chemically influenced.Subscribe  or  log in to reply
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Michael, I love how you explain the complexity of emotions we encounter as humans each day. Our emotions have the power to influence us in a variety of ways and in many cases, we are unable to control them. It is so interesting that we have such little power against something that is so prevalent in our lives. Thank you for sharing this poem!
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