“My soul gathers the breaths of my sanity and beholds them in the jar like fireflies on a dark night.”

Morbid ravens of the world, feed on the veins and light of goodness, untill nothing remains except damaging void.

Hope blooms in the bones and heartbeats of souls, that have been buried with bitter roots to expand with greatness.

Journal the consciousness of spirits, which portray the internal storms of life, with calmess and solitude.

The on and off of being rude and polite causes havoc with the mind, soul and spirit, let’s be kind in a cruel world.

Degrading oneself would only kill the warrior within, it was time to hold the negativity accountable but in a loving manner.

She believed, there were always 3 sides to the coin, each with it’s own purpose and need.

Inner work is crucial, it helps to understand the difference between being on own and being lonely despite the crowd.

Loving takes strength, so let’s love ourselves first before showering the scent throughout the world.

One day the heart will realize how the words hurt her, that she silently stopped existing instead of feeling broken up.

Each breath brings in the sighs and hiccups, let go the obstruction while enveloping the magic.

The moon brings in the ghost of the past, embody the rays of sun’s warmth into the cold ghost for illuminating the moon.

Blame game doesn’t resolve the pain or misunderstandings.

When self love become her mantra, her breaths became standards which had nothing to do with attitute or arrogance.

Human beings burn in the hatred of self inflicted wounds, when they compare themselves with others.

She has learnt that women who breathe life into each other make wonders happen with their presence as miraclous auras.

The seed needs soil to grow, likewise the body needs the soul to exist and live to the fullest.

So, there I was, tied to an altar made from outdated encyclopedias, about to get sacrificed to the dark powers by a cult of evil Librarians.

I’m a Communist by day and a Catholic as soon as it gets dark.

Then I saw a small dark dot enter the lower left corner of the vision. It floated up a ways and then suddenly disappeared.

In the dark times Will there also be singing? Yes, there will also be singing. About the dark times.

I am hopelessly divided between the dark and the good, the rebel and the saint, the sex maniac and the monk, the poet and the priest, the demagogue and the populist. Pen to paper, I put it all down – I’m out on a limb here, so watch my back.

Since September it’s just gotten colder and colder. There’s less daylight now, I’ve noticed too. This can only mean one thing – the sun is going out. In a few more months the Earth will be a dark and lifeless ball of ice. Dad says the sun isn’t going out.

The classic comedian says there’s nothing that’s taboo; if you laugh at one thing you’ve got to laugh at everything, that comedy is taking people to dark areas and showing them the light.

There’s a terrible sense of dread filtering across America at the moment and it’s not simply because of the continuing fear of terrorism and the fact that the nation is at war. It’s more frightening than that.