“December is her month to let go and break open with freedom to be her own hero.”

Her soul is the crystal that sees the soothing tones of pleasurable longing of mind.

She is a lioness with calming behavior of dignity.

She is a blessing that will be honored and missed by the void in the hearts and souls forever.

She holds a light within her which is a streak of beauty and abundance.

I take conscious initiative to self love my existence for better moments.

I pledge to set standards of what is acceptable to my sanity and what to phase out.

Every wind brings chaos and toxicity but it is upto me to transform with grace.

I will stand firm and tall like the sunflower and away from the line of damage.

I am a garden, that will only allow kindness and compassion to take roots.

Rise with the fire of survival and make the soul proud.

Grow from the fall of the game that was dealt as a lesson.

Slowly go forth with the drive to excel with compassion and intellect, far more beautifully than the fire that was to set ablaze the existence.

I understand that if it hurts, which it does immensely, I was being thawed, I was healing and blooming to feel and embrace the pain, so that I would grow from the seeds and roots of my story, into a tree of inspiration.

I am a woman whose realizing her aura, capacity and capability to thrive and excel, a woman who knows what personal feats are while branding her mark professionally and passion based.

Keep your senses on alert but let go of the burning fear, as you replace it with powerful faith.

The wings of hope, carries gracious grateful genuine smiles, of memories that paint the path of memory, with faith as a strong foundation.

How can a bird that is born for joy Sit in a cage and sing?

When someone comes along and expresses him or herself as freely as they think, people flock to it. They enjoy it.

The worst things in life come free to us.

Gay Liberation? I ain’t against it, it’s just that there’s nothing in it for me.

It is the privilege of tale-tellers to open their story in an inn, the free rendezvous of all travellers, and where the humour of each displays itself, without ceremony or restraint.

A prison cell, in which one waits, hopes – and is completely dependent on the fact that the door of freedom has to be opened from the outside, is not a bad picture of Advent.

What was freely given to me, I freely give.

I get out, I get out of all your boxes. I get out, you can’t hold me in these chains. I’ll get out. Father free me from this bondage. Knowin’ my condition is the reason I must change