There is space. There is time. There is grace.

Nothing is more important than this.

Photo by Patrick Fobian on Unsplash

When was the last time someone told you you were talented?

Made you think. Made you feel. And then, lifted you up.

In defiance of convention.
In defence of conviction.

These words are a prophecy.

I am so fucking angry.

I boil with rage.
I boil & I burn & I let it fly.

And it feels good.
It feels joyful.
It feels mesmerising.

I’m revisiting the old with the comfort of the new.

Is that right, or is that wrong?

Or are we just too quick to judge?

Do you know what you’re fighting for? Or are you too consumed by what’s against you?

I am fighting for love. And I am not a martyr.

The void is nameless & shameless & endlessly compassionate.

I’m reminded of…

Old feelings, old knowings, old writings, old ways of being, old grapplings…