Dear Unsealers,

My goals have always been productive This year I let go of fear Listen to my heart when it tells me NO To feel how my body embodies joy Say yes to the moment Make friends with strangers Take a risk Be seen so that those who love me can draw near Have an affair with creation And devotion as my potion To use my imagination as my compass Dare to be unproductive Let play lead the way Be friends with my inner me <3

New Year, new Me shall see Twenty Twenty-five

Transformed by the holy and living God. 

I should seek the Lord more than ever, but

I am nothing.

My life needs cleansing.

My mere existence is thanks to the Lord.

I seek goals while the Lord shapes me

Oh, Lord spark a purpose for the road.

I am a mess.

Your light is dazzling. 

I have been blinded from your greatness.

The Dark drowned in pools of misery.

Tricked me to fall in that same blackhole.

I saw their pain. 

Happy to sadness

Although I could never feel their pain.

I could never fit into this world.

I thought I was the burden because

How can my life!

How can my life be 

Compared to the world’s gory horrors.

My hope vanished in the air and then

This nightmare seemed to swallow itself.

It was a lie.

But a shooting star,

A vivid sign to write poetry.

I need to become disciplined and

My Lord gives me strength in my weakness.

My King save me!

My Lord and Savior,

I will worship him and he has been

Faith, unmatched unlike other human

He is God and will create the best,

The Newest Me.

The one with tongues that

Will speak with a soft, but thundering 

Melody that will reach many ears.

From english to spanish, I will learn

Italian.

A melody that

reaches the depth of my soul and heart.

The sounds that inhabit a room of 

Intimacy and scented perfume.

He takes my hand.

Love scented roses

Mesmerize my eyes and holds my hand.

Always guiding me and renewing.

I should not worry because at the 

Highest Mountains, 

Depths of the Ocean,

The shame of my sins and my mistakes,

I will embrace my God and he will 

Perfect our relationship in trust.

In Confidence,

I will reflect love.

Slow to anger, selfish love becomes

Forgiveness that is my remedy.

I will be patient to others and 

Active to my 

Self-care and Body.

Not just hygiene, but nourishing meals.

A daily routine that challenges 

My body to radiate itself

Like bright glitter.

Not to flaunt, but stand

Against the power that holds me down.

I’m determined to showcase my goals

Til I accept my Lord makes things new.

I am Renewed.

This year, I walk with seeds in hand,
To cultivate dreams, to grow and stand.
A garden of truth, where courage takes root,
With love as my anchor and self-worth as my fruit.
I’ll learn from the earth, her wisdom and grace,
Craft healing remedies in this sacred space.
A student of nature, her word I’ll heed,
To nurture my spirit and plant what I need.
The voice inside, once soft, now clear,
Will echo with purpose, unfazed by fear.
Through words, I’ll inspire, through truth, I’ll ignite,
A beacon of hope, a source of light.
Steps once faltered, now steady and bold,
Guided by faith, by strength I uphold.
The past may have scarred, but its lessons remain,
A testament of healing through joy and through pain.
I’ll craft my own path, a website, a name,
A space to empower, to stoke the flame.
Sharing my story, my trials, my climb,
Proving that healing transcends space and time.
For family and self, my heart will expand,
As I teach, as I love, as I firmly stand.
I’ll honor the past, its lessons, its pain,
And greet each new day with gratitude’s refrain.
2025, a year to embrace,
With goals that align, with a steady pace.
A journey of purpose, of dreams redefined,
An alchemist’s vision, both dark and light intertwined.

Serendipity

December 31, 2025-My future self reflects in the mirror.

As I’m chanting a meaningful phrase,

I am clearing the room with divine sage.

It has been done… great, wondrous, aspirations achieved.

I’m confident my future self knows my highest timeline transceived.

“What,” you ask, “Do I want this year?”

My spirit guides, lead me, making this clear.

BALANCE, LOVE, GIVE, RECEIVE.

Keep learning to LET GO, ACCEPT, and be UNAFRAID to GRIEVE.

Travel a little, read, and ATTRACT.

Challenge your comfort… when necessary, REFRACT. 

Write poetry, a novel, all with authenticity.

Do something brave every day; serendipity.

Enjoy creativity, LOVE MY CHILDREN in all aspects of life.

Play board games with family and friends any night.

EXPLORE and grow in spirituality.

Become a reiki healer, whimsically.

LOVE MY CHILDREN, be silly, play with the dogs.

Always be open. Don’t let distractions or barriers mud up the cogs. 

I saw my first wishing well when I was still a child
The idea was so novel, I remember how I smiled
What a silly thing to believe, I told myself that day
Why would you pointlessly throw all your pennies away?

I wish I had a ticket back to when I was a kid
I wish I could have learned a little sooner how to give
I wish I’d had the courage to tell her that I loved her
Or hadn’t acted so embarrassed every time I hugged my mother

I wish all those poems I wrote weren’t left unfinished
And that those songs in my head made it out to begin with
I wish I wasn’t such a dreamer, a believer, or
Maybe I wish that I had believed a bit more

I really wish this poem wasn’t written by a hypocrite
Afraid to guarantee any of the things that he says
And maybe then I wouldn’t doubt these words as I say them
And I’d believe in the promises I made, verbatim

I wouldn’t laugh at the people filling wells with pennies
And look down and realize that I’m the one who’s chucked to many
So here’s my final penny, the only one that’s left
It’s something that I’m trying very hard not to forget

I wish to go back and hug the younger version of me
And tell him things are never quite as hopeless as they seem
I wish that I could stare into his eyes, head to head
I wish that I could stop that kid from wishing he was dead

Wish that I could hold his hand, but when I look at my side
It baffles me to realize he’s the one who’s holding mine

Every time he made a wish, taped up a dream that he liked
All those melodies he hummed, all those pretty little rhymes
He’s holding out their broken pieces as he stares into my eyes
You can fix these, He whispers, You’re the only one who can
And then he knocks the horrid little pennies from my hands

I’ve been wishing all my life, it left me penniless and poor
But lately I have found that I’m not wishing anymore
Yes, wishes got me nowhere, so I traded them for goals
Believe your life is in your hands and you’ll hold the controls

This year I have decided that I’m going to believe
For that little kid who told me wear your heart on your sleeve
I’m going to finish those songs for the one who began
Because I owe my inner child for the man that I am

I’m going to hug the ones I love, pick them up and spin them ‘round
And hold on tight forever like I’ll never put them down
Lose myself giving to people, light a smile on a face
Because that’s the way I found myself in the first place

I might buy a ticket back to my home by the mountains
And find somebody throwing pennies, sitting by a fountain
And I might knock those precious little coins out of their hand,
And as they bounce around I’ll giggle like a crazy man

After they curse at me, I’ll tell them, pennies are like moments
Please, don’t just throw them all away wishing that doors would open
If you only looked around, you might find that there’s a key
Pennies are so valuable, don’t treat them like they’re free

You found a way to delay and wait
Stayed too long in the shallow end
Close to the shore
Safety was your toy
A ploy
Not open for change
Disappointed in your own ways
Held in contempt bound by the malnourishment
Not feeding your inner confusion
You took the bait
They tried to control
You paid the toll over and over
Are you ready
The plans the vision board the words
Spoken meticulously with much intention
Attention given, no action?
The reaction was frustration
You wanted to die, cry and cry
Stop the inner lies
The road is clear, steer no going in the rear
Everything is ahead
Steady ready go
I am ready…

to feel my sadness
and the madness

the silence
and imbalance

to love my hatred
of my ego wasted

twisted and
unmotivated

to care,
and to continue

something new
long overdue

I couldn’t ask for a snack growing up, but I can now.
I couldn’t go play at a friend’s house, but I can now.
I couldn’t stop harming myself, but I can now.
I couldn’t see how beautiful I was, but I can now.
I couldn’t go throughout my day without using or self-medicating, but I can now.
I couldn’t be honest with the people around me, let alone myself, but I can now.
I couldn’t see where I was wrong, but I can now.
I couldn’t reach out for help, but I can now.
I couldn’t see how much trauma could affect me being a mama, but I can now.
I couldn’t find my way out of the dark, but I can now.
I couldn’t go out and speak about what I’ve been through, but I can now.
I couldn’t stand in a crowd of people and feel comfortable, but I can now ( well just a little bit).
But now Oh, now how I can admit, that though some of the peices may not fit, thought I may not be fit or fit in, I AM NOT UNFIT.
Because though I COULDN’T THEN, I CAN NOW!

AMEN. THE END.

I was today years old, when I realized. There is a reason it was never my season. I cannot do what everybody else does. I will not go wherever they go. Alone I may know. As I journey this winding road. Picking up pieces of peace, as I grow. Sewing seed of redemption and faith. As my eyes see the lies I taste. My dreams hold on as my memories change.

10 years ago, I could write a song about anything. From wars on words and vengeance to resiliant melodies. Easier to imitate than to live. Terrified my all wouldn’t be worth the give. I hid behind intelligent performances. But emotionally I could not lie, so logically loneliness began to overwrite. Permeate the inner sanctum of my mind. Making simple the impossible. The rejected, the respected. The forgotten, the source and seed harvested in every moment of grace.

Loneliness made an enemy of me. The moment it let me think that my obedience was punishment for the smile and laughter God gives. For the praise I lift in love, even when my tears have only just begun. I am more than anger and rage. I’m more than smiles and joy that you can’t erase. I learned to love me, flaws and everything. Merciful thru my falls. Forgiven for AWOLS. Uniquely seasoned and reasoned for being me.

Improvement can be a fickle thing
Results galore it can bring
Toil and sweat are required
To get that which is desired

Fifty books I hope to devour
For the mind is but a budding flower
Fact and fiction I hold them dear
Those stories that play in my ear

Knowledge isn’t my only quest
It would also be nice to improve my nest
Can I convert my shack into a castle
Renovation can be such a hassle

They say good things come in threes
So my final goal I will seize
A dose of fitness motivation
Could be my old age salvation

Goals achieved can bring a dividend
What will their accomplishment portend
A healthier body and open mind
With a nicer abode in which to unwind

(Note: It won’t matter what your goals are if your fear of others, is greater than your faith in yourself. Trust your intuition/feminine.)

I’m writing because I have something to express that is of importance to me. It may be moving to you, it may not. But I owe MORE to the blank page awaiting my ink drops, than to strangers who I may never meet, or who don’t have any real stake in my feelings.
My own-self understands that whatever I write could have been done better, but I don’t live life in ‘could have’. I choose to live, and write, for better or worse, in ‘I did it’.
Ultimately my words are my own. Their excellence and/or failure, mine. What I express today, it’s greatness, may mean little to me tomorrow. But that’s not the point. Every letter, like every drop of rain, is required in some way by all of us.
For myself, I don’t judge a rainstorms importance by how many drops fall from the sky and if they all got to the roots of the plants that require watering.
My words are the unsealed storm. It may be quiet like a soft springs drizzle, or storm in thundering downpour. They may drown you or lift you up. And I understands, a verse that upsets one, can just as easily enlighten another.
My job is to write with my truth and passion, not judge. To trust the flow of my pen, not the stagnation of streams. And that’s a writers job–pushing the pen on blank pages and creating sentences that connect what I feel into ideals of what I seek to express. It starts there. It may end there. But what I write can never be completely ignored or discarded, because it was seen, felt, and expressed through me—as human being who is a part of a humanity that yearns to express itself through those who create its stories.

Letters are just letters, until someone arranges them into words, and forms them into sentences through their feelings, and into stories. Each and every time I do that, with integrity and fearless-feeling, I am a true writer. And what you feel about my words is up to you. Because that part of the writing is about the reader, not me. My job is creation, the Feminine, not self-judgement.
So I end as I began: I’m writing because I have something to express that is of importance to me. And when I’m done writing it, the rest will be up to you . . .

and I’m all write with that.

FEAR NOTHING

ERIC SANDER KINGSTON
wishonwisdom.com

“Give yourself permission to write.” Barbara Kingsolver

One novel to write the wrongs
Of a society that says I don’t belong
Where a woman neither mother nor wife
Is looked down on for living an unfulfilled life,
Berated and branded a broken soul
In need of someone’s other half to make her whole

One novel to break the contract
Of a creator’s falsely progressive act
Representation dangled in a cruel game
To be yanked away, pawned for money and fame
The rallying cry of my lived reality
Silenced by the masses’ romantic mentality

One novel as an act of resistance
Of lust and romance as the root of existence
A story to leave the stereotypes upended
A forgotten identity lovingly represented
Born from the ashes of what might’ve been
That the marginalized may rise again

One novel before the year is out
One novel, and this my vow
To defend a group cast out and betrayed
To keep to my goal and never stray
Weaving a narrative authentically told
My voice never packaged and sold

Growing
and
Withholding.
Knowing,
The anger was always sadness
A different emotion to replace my previous sorrowful state
Now, I’ve let the anger go
But it was mine for so long
I forgot what the sadness was like
The one who truly knows me
Reunited.
Within a shaky embrace
Wide and weak eyes
Reminding me
I’m not tough and I’m not mean
But why can I still not remember?
Why is it hard to speak only on occasion?
I’m scared.
Why can’t I remember?
Was I scared?
I can’t remember
I wonder if you do
If you remember the fear reflected in my sick gaze
Do you know what’s wrong?
I –
Forgot to water my plants again
Years of growth
Then the year of death
Granted with more time
Rebirth
You asked, “I thought you wanted to die?”
I can’t remember.
But through my rebirth I will remember it all
I will heal from it all

Goals – “The object of a person’s ambition or effort; an aim or desired result.”

Beginning in grade school, as we return to the schoolhouse once again, dragging ourselves into our respective classrooms, the routine of asking, “What are your New Year’s resolutions?” is all too familiar. And, you know, the question never stops. It does, however, change in the way it is posed and, possibly, in how we answer. This year’s adult iteration is, “Write a poem or letter about your goals for 2025.”

Frankly, the very thought of being required to employ brainpower to plan further than my next oil change, tomorrow, if you were asking, frightens me to my innermost core. To be more specific, goal setting is a process that fills me with so much anxiety and dread that I find myself craving the comfort of a 5150. Too much? You know what? You’re right. Back to the topic at hand, as I’ve digressed.

Since I’ve made it to this side of 30, my New Year’s goals have been much simpler, making them more easily attainable. That said, my only goal for 2025 is to wake up and live. I know, I know. Cliché, right? Yes, but all I can seem to commit to is waking up each day and giving that day all I have—which isn’t even enough to partially fill a thimble. My only goal is to wake up and try.

Try to make it at work.
Try to show up for my friends and family.
Try to show up for my beautiful and precocious godson.
And try to live.

The world is burning. If you’re paying attention, you know it’s always burning, to be honest. Groceries are expensive. They are attempting to criminalize the unhoused. Eggs and the cheapest bottle of tequila are equal in shelf life and price. And through all of that, all I can do is put forth the bulk of my energy to waking up, then trying.

Awoken to Bloom

A persistent itch skims on the border of my tongue—

It has been there for several years.

Occasionally, a drip occurs,

and suddenly, flood fantasies fulfill my head.

I am loud, like the rush waves,

YET

I never embody the movement of salsa,
for fear of becoming a tsunami.

Perspiration flirts with the air,

mocking this California drought.

Have others already discovered the beauty of a hose?

It confuses me to see grass,
when all I have ever known is dirt.

I am grand, like an overused bouquet of apology flowers,

YET

I shy from all platforms,
As I’m surrounded by the lushness of the Pasadena Rose Parade.

I crave this hydration more now—

though I don’t know how,

or who to ask,

to open the faucet.

Did others already know this tool existed,

or were they suffering alongside me without it?

Illustrative and dreamily,
I walk through life,

YET
my canvases are kept in darkness,

for fear they won’t match the visions in my mind.

Suddenly—

waterboarded.

Outsiders would call it cruel.

But those who’ve tasted awoken slumber,

solely seeking the serotonin of saliva,

know the depths of real torture.

YET

with this whiplash,

I am awoken to find healing.

As this year my conquests will bloom,

likely a garden, something beautiful to breathe in.

At the stroke of midnight
I promise, this year to do right
I will commit to discipline 
Remember, sugar is a sin

This year I will lose 15 pounds
I’ll pass on the second round
Spend more time with family and friends
Will you get another day after this one ends?

I will budget better 
No, I don’t need a new sweater
I will sing, dance, and laugh,
Until I get a charley horse in my calf

Taking the optimism route
No self-doubt 
Try something new
Make a dollar or two

Sell my pasta salad
Hopefully, it’s a hit on somebody’s palate
I may even go to church
Getting up early on Sunday won’t hurt

This year, I’m all about improving and growth
And on that note, 
Wishing you all success in every goal
And happiness to your soul

All the world is scrambling,

Picking up pieces of itself as though

Hit by a freight train.

Empires imploding, nature running a fever,

The love and trust of many

Growing cold.

The panacea of distractions,

If only to turn the mind off briefly,

Only do so much when

Everything else burns to ash.

–

Those not living in fear for being different,

For having the nerve to exist,

Are probably paying in life savings 

For breathing at the wrong moment.

Maybe awaiting a hurricane

Or ghouls with guns

To further erode life’s fragile foundations.

All of this and more

Brought in part by

Conquest, war, pestilence and death.

–

In any case,

Time marches forward.

A smattering of polycrises forcing

One and all

To make difficult decisions for tomorrow.

Knowing not what it brings.

Between heavy sighs and restless nights,

All making a choice, however heavy,

To survive another day.

Even if it means just existing.

–

I sit in the apricity of a winter sun,

My dog carelessly crunching on acorns

While I write my intentions for

The next sun cycle.

The night is relatively quiet,

Lulled by evening hustle bustle.

The threat of the shrouding dark cloud,

Darkness falling,

Juxtaposed by quiet sunlit contentment

And the fervor of daily life.

–

An unspoken understanding

Underlies all

Between the jubilation and the solitude.

Distrust between men,

Panicked fears of revelation,

And desires to live more fully in moments

All tie down to

The resolve to survive.

A primal instinct to weave through the

Trappings of unrest and complacency.

–

That, at least for now, is my resolution,

As this grand ship takes her plunge.

The sun arises with dreams & goals
A routine created – a delicate plan
Boom…suddenly the sun is setting
Repeating …I know I can
Persistence & Another Day

Everyday a bit more gets done
Frustrated progress is not faster
Uttering Patience…it will unfold
Embracing silent meditation
Listening deeply to my soul

The sun arises with dreams & goals
A routine created – a delicate plan
Boom…suddenly the sun is setting
Repeating …I know I can
Persistence & Another Day

Starting again from scratch
A fresh canvas & creative goals
Releasing the accumulated stuff
Freeing myself from this …
Possession prison

The sun arises with dreams & goals
A routine created – a delicate plan
Boom…suddenly the sun is setting
Repeating …I know I can
Persistence & Another Day

A sloth in slow motion
No end in sight, but suddenly…
Faith is restored on the journey
Accomplishing goals, baby steps
Slowly CAN accomplish more

The sun arises with dreams & goals
A routine created – a delicate plan
Boom…suddenly the sun is setting
Repeating …I know I can
Persistence & Another Day

My goals are monumental
Referred to as fantasy by some
Relying on faith and imagination
Helping humanity grow
Finding the true me in the process

The sun arises with dreams & goals
A routine created – a delicate plan
Boom…suddenly the sun is setting
Repeating …I know I can
Persistence & Another Day

Many years now on this journey
Dedicated to reaching goals
This is the year to shed it all
To build a solid foundation
Envision a humanity to be proud of

The sun arises with dreams & goals
A routine created – a delicate plan
Boom…suddenly the sun is setting
Repeating …I know I can
Persistence & Another Day

This is a 9 year, the sign of release
The year of the Wood Snake too
Significant with shedding it all
Go for the gusto and let go
Everything is telling us to do so

The sun arises with dreams & goals
A routine created – a delicate plan
Boom…suddenly the sun is setting
Repeating …I know I can
Persistence & Another Day

Next year it is a ONE
Signifying new beginnings
A fresh start to dream & discover
Focus now on really letting go
Make room for dreams to manifest

The sun arises with dreams & goals
A routine created – a delicate plan
Boom…suddenly the sun is setting
Repeating …I know I can
Persistence & Another Day

Afraid to speak my thoughts
Afraid to be who I am
Ridiculous in all reality
To let others hold you back
This is the year to let the fear go

The sun arises with dreams & goals
A routine created – a delicate plan
Boom…suddenly the sun is setting
Repeating …I know I can
Persistence & Another Day

My goal this year begins with clearing
Preparing for greatness to come.
A lightworker, a healer, a magician of love
Sent to help the world transform
Let my message be heard, that is my goal

The sun arises with dreams & goals
A routine created – a delicate plan
Boom…suddenly the sun is setting
Repeating …I know I can
Persistence & Another Day