“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, they say – Do I see, what is me? Or did his eyes lead me astray?”

My mother used to say “Don’t put off until tomorrow what you can do today” I say What can you do today to make the world a better place?

I survived the darkness. Crawled. Clawed. Endured. Untangled lies from truth. This wisdom is my sword.

I am worthy and steely. I will conquer again. Truth as my armor; My sword is my pen. Tell me I can’t and I’ll show you I will surviving and thriving is my refined skill.

He always preferred the way my eyes looked after they had cried. I wish he knew how fine they looked once he had said goodbye.

Cultural identity; warped and changed. Each of you thinks the other is to blame, It’s created this way, yet we all play a role. We could stop it today if we felt the truth in our souls.

Contemplation; intrinsic. I am aligned perception. A, perfected plan. I am ferocious and tranquil. Rising. Pain to power. Alchemic. Energising

How many wounds can you convert to wisdom? How much pain to power can you permute and fathom? This is your story; rewrite how it’s written.

Why do I see in a world gone blind? I always longed to find the answers, took chances. Asked for the veil to thin. Fault? Mine. Left questioning; my eyes, blessings or curses?

My bloody hands that hold on to faith. Learned that we grow with pain and not age.

The only way I’ll ever choose to taste sweet love again, Is if he tells me, he loves my mind, and the way I use my pen.

All my trauma grown to thorns, he overlooked it all. Perhaps they caused him to bleed in ways I can’t recall.

After the flood, the colors were brightened demand tears of pain to feel so enlightened. Lassoed hope from the clouds that caused it to rain, divine intervention to feel love again.

Perception is the paintbrush. The reality, the canvas. You are the artist. Create purposefully.

On my worst days, I give the devil hell. On my best day, I hold a light for God to dwell.

Don’t let the ugly in others kill the beauty in you. Let it inspire you to conjure a worthwhile view. Observe their darkness-like space in between the stars. Acknowledged, yet dazzled with the bright beauty of ours. Their darkness is worthy of unconditional love. Just give their ugly, mercy.

Forgiveness for others and yourself too will transform your world into a beautiful view.

I trust my instincts. I don’t distrust them. They haven’t led me astray. It’s when I’ve made up my mind to be efficient that is when I have gone wrong.

Hanifs (Muslims) are stumbling, Christians all astray Jews wildered, Magians far on error’s way.

Mortals have made up their minds to name two forms, one of which they should not name, and that is where they go astray from the truth.

No matter how astray the becoming might be, I’ll never search for the old in me.

The need to understand everything can lead us far astray.